


Forever and Always, Hazza

by faeriegirl143, HyFrLarry1224



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), Justin Bieber (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Biker Gang, Child Abuse, Doctor Harry, Drug Abuse, Drug Dealer, Grouchy Zayn, Harry Styles - Freeform, He's an ass, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mention of abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Multi, Multiple chapters, NotSoMuchABadBoy, NotYourTypicalAsshole, Nurturing Harry, OD, Read at Your Own Risk, Senior Harry, Slow Burn, Snitches (Rats), Soft Liam, Violence, badboy, druglords, jk, mentions of drug use, more to be added - Freeform, unedited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-13 23:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 85,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14758424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriegirl143/pseuds/faeriegirl143, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyFrLarry1224/pseuds/HyFrLarry1224
Summary: (I promise, my co-writer had a much better summary before I got a hold of it. Sorry Ash.)Louis and Harry became best friends at birth and were destined to spend their lives together, but somewhere along the way that line got erased from their future, along with Louis' childhood memory's of Harry. The constant itch at the back of Louis' mind was driving him insane as he struggles to figure out why Harry Styles seems so familiar. The green eyes, that rotten attitude... He knew there was more to the man in front of him than he could remember.  He just can't figure out what.ORHarry Styles is forced to forget about his past, and the people in it, so he can focus on the future he once thought to be so different. His life was set out in front of him, until that damned blue eyed boy stumbles back into it. The pain and longing Harry once felt for his lost love are resurfacing, only to be shoved down and forced into silence by the unwelcome interruptions from people they thought they could trust but are really only damaging any chance of the two getting together.Can they survive?Or was what they had truly gone?Taken away from them by a man Louis once idolized.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I'm back again. Whoops. I can't seem to keep myself away from this site, or new stories. Haha. Anywhoodle, I bring you yet another heartbreaking master piece! We have a lot planned for this story, and if you happen to be a regular on my account, then you know the amazing co-writer of this story! She wrote 'It Always Comes Back To You' with me, and she is truly gifted. Check out her page when you get the chance. 
> 
> Thanks, loves!
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Xx

“Yes mother, I know where the damn college is. I programmed the address into my phone.” Louis growled at his cell phone. He had it on speaker, the phone laying in the cup holder between the driver and passenger seat where his best friend, Zayn, was trying to keep himself from bursting out laughing.  _Trying_  being the key word. “What mother? No, I’m not laughing at you, Zayn just has the giggles.”

At the mention of his name Zayn burst out laughing harder, slapping a hand over his mouth to smother anymore noise. He shot his friend a glare as he took a hard turn into the college parking lot, causing Zayn to smash against the passenger side door and window with enough force for a good sized goose egg to pop onto tanned skin. Smirking when the injured man glared at Louis and rubbed his head, Louis found an open spot and pulled in, shutting the car off.

_“Don’t you cuss at me, Louis William! I brought you into this world I can take you o - “_

The abrupt threat was cut off as Louis hit the end button. Pocketing the device then the keys, he grabbed his bags from the backseat then nodded at the dorms that looked way too far away to be reachable on foot, especially while loaded down with baggage. Seriously? He gave a long sigh and looked around, debating getting back in the car and pulling it up to the grassy area in front of their dorm building when his phone started ringing, his mother’s ringtone to be exact. No way in hell was he going to put everything down in order to answer it, the bitch could wait, even if it would give her more fuel to throw at him after the impromptu hang up from earlier.

Unwinding his arm from the strap of his green Nike bag, he slapped Zayn upside the head then took off running for their dorm, bags bouncing against his knee as he heard Zayn make a surprised noise then come after him. It only took the darker haired male a few minutes to catch up with Louis, throwing all his weight on the blue eyed male and bring him down to the grass, bags and all.

Another year wasted hiding from the idiots of the school, the ones who haven't yet threaded themselves out or found out that they weren't college material like they thought they were. He was used to it by now, spent years watching as the new fresh eyed morons stumbled onto campus with dopey smiles and false hopes that this would all be easy. That this was the land of parties, freedom, and easy classes.

It wasn't until two weeks in that they were proved wrong, and by the third month they were all dropping like flies, making it easier for him to be at the top of his class even though he's always rightfully held that title since his first year. Nobody ever believed it, though. When they seen his name on the top of those papers, they always assumed he fucked or sucked his way up to the top. Which, honestly, wasn't that hurtful or surprising to him considering his appearance, parents, and social standing. He was the campus asshole who also happened to be a part of his parents biker gang. Big whoop.

Snaking his arm around the duffle bag in the trunk, Harry slammed it shut and patted the roof of the car as he walked around to the front. “Thanks for bringing my stuff, Li. I'm not sure my bike could have handled it,” Harry said, words smooth and slow as his British accent fought against the faint American accent he has unwillingly adopted.

“Handles your fat ass, what's a few more bags?” Liam said, his cringe worthy attempt at making a joke causing Harry to roll his eyes. Yet another thing he's used to. His friends horrible sense of humor, or lack thereof. Even after six years Harry has  _still_ yet to rub off on his goody two shoes, once mormon friend. Though since moving to San Francisco with Harry, he has became more of an asshole, more daring, and spread his tiny wings a little further.

Slapping the back of his head, Harry grinned fondly and waved him on his way with some mumbled department he wasn't sure even made sense. Who gave a fuck though? Hefting his bag up on his shoulder, strap digging into his skin even through the leather jacket, Harry stared at the enormous building that had possibly once looked intimidating, but now just made his shoulders slump.  _Another year._ His last year, to be exact.

People stood on the sidewalks, their sobfilled goodbyes nearly unbearable if it wasn't for his ability to block out annoying things. An odd advantage of having parents who, unfortunately, had people in and out of their houses at all hours and had at least one gathering a week with friends claiming to be family who always got plastered the first hour in.

Those were his family, though. His adopted one, at least. Besides his dad and mum, and Gems obviously, he didn't know his real family. Just the aunts and uncles who've willingly watched him make the awkward transition from annoying child, to troubled teen, to an equally as troubled adult that has at least sorted his shit out and now has a somewhat steady income that at least made them proud.  _If only they knew._

Hurried foosteps made the two on the ground look up, Louis scrambling to his feet to brush off any dirt remnants on his clothing. Thankful that his bags hadn’t slid off his arm, he slung them over his back again, almost tipping himself over from the weight as he struggled to find the cement sidewalk and follow it to their dorm. Glancing at the building, he gave a cringe at how old it looked, worrying that he’d have to sleep with his lights on least he be visited by some supernatural visitor who took it upon themselves to scare people half to death. Why were they single bed rooms again?

Both raced up the stairs to the third floor, delighted in finding their rooms were right next to each other, with thankfully a hidden door to let themselves travel between rooms without having to head out into the hallway. Throwing his bags onto his bed, he threw open the french door to the “balcony” which ended up just being a three sided railing and no floor to it. Note to self - keep balcony door locked when going out to drink so you don’t wander into the balcony and break your neck.

“Hey Zee?”

Louis took advantage of the door between them to push into his best friend’s dorm. He plopped himself on the pile of shirts that Zayn had pulled from his suitcase, obviously intending to hang up them up right away - the dork. He shimmied behind on the bedspread then purposely brought arms out to push the piles over and onto the floor.

“What do you want, Louis?” Zayn tried his hardest to sound annoyed as he leaned over to grab the clothing Louis had pushed over. The closet had maybe two hangers in it, the previous tenant having brought their own or stolen them, much to Zayn’s annoyance. “Can I have your clothes hangers?”

Louis had completely forgotten what he’d been about to ask Zayn as he reached over to grab a shirt from the bag Zayn had been emptying and held it up. It was a bright pink button up with black palm trees and yellow, blue, and green stripes through it made to look like a the sun setting behind it. Bugging eyes out, he stood up and held the shirt to himself, pushing the dorm door close to look at the mirror behind it.

“The hell do you have this shirt for? It needs to be burned! Burned I tell ya, Zee!” Louis rolled the shirt up in a ball and flung it at the dark haired male, who only rolled his eyes and let the clothing hit him.

Finding his dorm room was easy enough, having walked through these buildings enough to know them like the back of his hand. Unlike his first few years here, he was assigned a roommate. He  _almost_  felt bad for the people who didn't have connections and couldn't pull strings and had to squeeze two or three people into a tiny room originally only intended for a single bed and  _maybe_  a small dresser.

But then it was all swiped away when he pushed into his room, oak door thick and heavy and stained with odd colored liquids, and was greeted with a decent sized living room. Instead of dropping his bag at the door like he'd wanted to, he kicked the door behind him and walked into the fully furnished room, eyes scatting over the tan couches, red curtains and small flat screen tv before he found the tiny kitchen. Bypassing it, because it was literally just a fridge, stove and oven with a sink and small counter squished in the mixture, he walked down the creaky hallway and flipped on the lights with his elbow as he passed the switch.

Light flooded the place, bringing a soft glow to the bathroom on his left and carrying down the hallway to barely touch the two yellow doors. He hadn't seen anyone yet, hadn't even called out to see if his roommate had made it, but he honestly didn't even think to until now. “Hello?” He asked, just loud enough he knew his voice would reach someone if they were hiding behind one of the thin doors. When he got no answer, he finished creeping down the hallway and opened the first door, the one on the right of the hallway.

It lead to a small room with a white desk and bed, nothing else to cover the god-awful white walls.  _Yup, definitely not his room._ The next room was much bigger, with built in shelves and a set of french doors that lead out onto a balcony. He inhaled the fresh air, eyes finding the freshman dorms that was right across from him just as one of the tiny idiots opened their balcony doors and nearly fell to their death when they went to step out on the bottomless deathtrap.

Laughing because he'd made the same stupid mistake, Harry left the doors open and got to work on putting away the few belongings he'd brought. It was only a few outfits, a couple pair of pajamas, his cut, two pairs of shoes and a few blank notebooks and a package of pens and pencils. He hated materialistic things, and tried to keep all of his belongings to a minimum.

He had just collapsed back on the twin sized bed that squeaked and bounced beneath his weight, springs digging into his aching muscles, when his bloody phone rang in his pocket and nearly vibrated the teeth from his skull. “Yes, Anne?” He asked in an annoyed breath, tongue nearly betraying him and curling around the name he grew up calling her, but no longer had the right to call her.  _Mum._ She was his mum, and he loved her, though she tried to be more of his friend now than anything and she seemed to feel more respect from him when he called her by her name so he didn't fight.

“You didn't tell us school started today!” She shrieked into the phone, her American accent much stronger than her British one and nearly wiping away the only proof she had of the place she grew up. “Des and I will be over in an hour! Do you need anything, honey? Laptop? TV? Ah, doesn't matter! Well get you all the basic things,”

And before he could even squeeze a word in, or feed her some bullshit excuse that he'd been too busy to call, she was hanging up and leaving him alone to deal with the person quietly knocking at his bedroom door.

Bored with Zayn already, Louis slammed their shared door behind him then went to the balcony doors and flung them open. It was a beautiful day, nice and warm and breezy. Stretching on tiptoes, he stared across the way at the building, wondering what year it was and where his binoculars happened to be. Turning to face his bag, he tipped it upside down to empty it on the bed then picked it up and threw it all in the dresser. Hanging up clothes was for the birds. Speaking of hanging.. Louis grabbed an armful of his hangers and walked to the shared door again, pulling it open to threw the hangers into Zayn’s living space then repeated the motion a couple more times to rid his closet of the awful metal in it.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything!”

Leaving the door open, he plopped onto his bed and carefully slid out his laptop. It was way too quiet, something needed to be done about that. Opening the device, he set it on Pandora to randomly play then emptied more of his bags, the rest containing mainly school supplies, and some random snack food and drinks that Louis needed on hand when the one a.m. starvation hit. Glancing up when he saw movement in the room across the way, he held his breath, squinting eyes to see if he could catch a glimpse of the occupant but his vision was too blurry and his glasses were buried somewhere in one of the bags. Or were they in his car? He wouldn’t need them until a few days from now when his first class started.

“LOUIS! There’s a welcome party in the main dining hall in about half an hour. You wanna?”

Jumping from his spot, he was slightly embarrassed from getting caught trying to sneak a look at their neighbor, Louis shook his head. A party? First night in? He’d usually be down for that, being the sort of person who thrived off being around other people, but Louis was tired from tossing and turning last night, his nerves being off the radar at going to college for the first time and his parents really not giving a crap and just glad their only child was finally getting out of the house.

“Nah, I’m going to stay in. You have fun though.” Louis mumbled as he glanced at his phone to see another missed call from his mother along with an angry text message she’d obviously written in a wrath of anger due to how many spelling mistakes it had. “I’m going to unwind with some music and Netflix. Maybe draw, too.”

Hank. His fucking roommates name was Hank, and he looked exactly like you would expect. Brown, straight hair that was cut short, brown eyes, big nose and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he peered over the edge of them to look you over with clearly judging eyes. Slamming the door to his dorm shut, Harry stormed down the hallway with his thumbs jammed in his front pockets of his black skinny jeans, fingernail toying with the single key he had squished in the tiny pocket.

He didn't judge, or at least he tried not to. But Hank seemed like the type of guy to bitch about anything and everything, and Harry wasn't about to let his last year of college be ruined by some tight wadded ass fuck. Slipping a cigarette past his lips after he fished them from the pocket of his jacket, he kicked a foot out behind him and leaned against his dorm building, green eyes subtly scouring over the unfamiliar faces that passed him in a blur.

People were shouting about some party, no doubt Justin’s, but he made no move to follow the crowd. He'd probably find his way over there later, when the alcohol was actually brought out, but for now he was content with just smoking his first fag of the school year. They had shit at all the parties, anyway, unless he helped supply some of the stuff.

Glancing up at the rows of balconies, Harry took a long drag off his cigarette and wondered, for the first time since they got here, where his dumbass friend was. Liam was, for lack of better words, incompetent and couldn't be left alone for longer than an hour otherwise he'd set something on fire and most likely kill himself in the process. If Harry had his way, Liam would be rooming with him but seeing as they were a year apart in age, the school wouldn't have it.

“Harry, my man. Long time no see,” a familiar voice said. Tearing his eyes away from the freshmans dorms, Harry ignored the roll of annoyance in his stomach when he seen Justin and forced a smile on his face.

“Hey, B. How've you been?” Harry greeted the blonde man. Playing nice was something he's had to do for years now, considering his ‘job.’ Letting his eyes roam over the sickeningly thin body, Harry ignored the obvious that Justin wasn't good and had clearly found a dealer over the summer break to makeup for Harry’s absence. And not that Harry was petty, or even jealous, but you could tell it was some dirt shit he was getting.  _Pick marks._

“Good, man.” Justin said before he quickly leaned in, a little too close for comfort, and nearly brushed Harry’s cigarette with his cheek. “Hey, listen, if you're still in the business I'm looking for some. My usual.”  _As if Harry couldn't tell._

Okay, so it's obvious Justin isn't his most favorite person in the world. He was a rich, snobby preppy boy who was only still at this school because of the large checks his parents signed every year for the dean. He was shit at everything, had a disgusting habit, and claimed being rich made him unhappy.  _Since when was money a bad thing?_ “Yeah, I got some. I'll have it to you by the end of the night,”

If Harry had been in Justin’s shoes, he wouldn't be throwing his life away like this fucktard was. He'd be milking his parents for all their money while he went to school and became a doctor, like he was right now. He wished he didn't have to sell fucking drugs to addicts, help ruin their lives, just to make ends meet. This wasn't the life he wanted, but fuck it if he didn't love it.

Right about the time Harry was agreeing to get Justin the drugs, Louis got a call from a close friend asking if he knew of any dealers on campus. He’d forgotten to stock up for the school year and was jonesing for a hit. Because a freshman would know anybody on campus, but Louis was sometimes too polite to get snarky at his friend, and that was a rarity.

“Dude, ask around. There’s some party going on later.” Louis tucked the phone under his chin as he unearthed his binoculars and was scanning the campus for anything interesting. Pausing on Harry’s dorm room, he raised an eyebrow at how close the two guys were standing, wishing to be able to hear their conversation, but only able to watch their lips move to form silent words. Boring!

Scanning to the courtyard, he took note of people gathered there, seeing the familiar head of Zayn and a flash of red meaning their other friend, Ed had made it to campus and was more than likely taking part in the festivities of the evening. Ed was a social butterfly and this was his second year of college so he’d have a good idea of who was who and who to stay away from, the names of the drug dealers, that Louis was needing right now, but he was too lazy to head down to the center to talk to him. Peering at his cell phone, he flicked thumb across the screen to unlock it just as the screen went black with a dead battery. He blamed it on the witch of his mother and threw it back onto his bed, he’d find the cord later when he felt like moving again.

Moving binoculars around again, he found himself staring at the figure from before now leaning against the building while smoking. Wishing his phone worked at the moment so he could call Ed and see if maybe he knew who lived in the dorms across the way - the man knew information right away, it was crazy how connected he seemed, being only a sophomore. Fingers danced across the bed until he grabbed his sketch pad and a pen and started lazily drawing an outline of the taller figure in the room, if he had to, he’d take a picture of the sketch when his phone was charged enough and send it to Ed. It wasn’t creepy, not at all.

Somebody was watching him, Harry could feel it, the slow creep of their eyes moving across his body as he unconsciously leaned away from Justin. Quickly glancing around, Harry took a final drag from his cigarette before he threw it on the ground and stomped it, burnt tobacco strewing across the grass. “My numbers still the same. I'll hit you up with a location,” Harry said, his way of saying goodbye before he pushed past Justin and began his way down the curvy sidewalk.

He wasn't the type of person who sketched easily, but he just had an odd feeling in his gut as he pushed through the crowd of people. Most recognized him, rather it be because they're customers or they just decided to become familiar with the school’s asshole to know to stay away from him, but they all greeted him with ‘Hello’s’ as he passed. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but he pretty much knew everybody that was worth knowing. The red head he'd just passed, Ed, was the schools scoop and could find out anything you wanted. Too bad Harry had all the information he'd needed, otherwise he's sure the ginger could be useful for a lot more things than just his snoopiness.

Kicking the kickstand to his bike up, Harry swung a leg over the seat and plopped down on the soft seat. He had a pure black Harley Davidson Dyna, with upgraded bars and a perfected body. Starting his bike now was just like breathing, it was a habit he didn't even realize he was doing until the bike purred to life and the engine roared with a vengeance that Harry thought sounded like a song. Glancing around when he noticed he'd gathered a crowd, Harry rolled his eyes and pulled on a pair of his gloves before he revved the engine, hoping to scare a few people back.

Didn't work, whatever. You'd think after the first three years, they'd be used to him by now, of seeing the tall ass kid dressed in leather jackets and black jeans riding a motorcycle. Sighing, Harry rolled the bike back an inch or two before he finally brought his legs up and pressed the gas. The lurch forward had people jumping backwards, even though he was going in the opposite direction of them.

“Fucking morons. Go fry your brains with some more battery acid,” he yelled over his shoulder, words carried away by the wind. He didn't know where he was going, just knew he was restless and didn't want to stay put and wait for Anne and Des to show up with all the ridiculous shit they buy him every year. It was nice, don't get him wrong, but they were predictable and had to know by now that the tv and shit always got given away at the end of the year. He didn't need that shit during the summer.

When his subject disappeared from view the moment he looked down at his paper, Louis gasped and got up, grabbing his pen and pad and rushing outside. It was instinct telling him to follow, he didn’t get his picture done, though he could when Harry got back, he just wanted it done now. Rushing down the stairs and out the front door, he chewed on his lip, wondering what way to go when he heard the loud roar of a motorcycle engine being brought to life.

“Is that him?”

He glanced down at his picture. Would this be considered stalking? Who cares, he’d worry about the consequences later! Rushing towards the sound, he noticed it was bringing him closer to the group of people who’d gathered in the courtyard. A couple voices yelled his name, both he assumed came from Ed and Zayn, the only two people who knew him on campus, while a third sounded unfamiliar. Glancing at the person, then back at the red tailight of the motorcycle as it swept off from the parking lot taking the rider somewhere into the city, an unfamiliar city that Louis hadn’t gotten a chance to explore yet, but damned if now wasn’t the right time.

“Louis! Come with us, we’re going to go to the common room.” A cool hand grabbed his arm as he looked up at the unfamiliar face. Who the hell was this guy? He looked so familiar, yet he was blanking on a name or where he’d seen him before.

Yanking arm back, he shook his head and held up sketchpad, making sure to flip back to a drawing he’d been doing, a landscape. “Gotta finish my drawing and a couple more before classes start. Toodles!”

Wiggling three fingers, he turned to walk around the corner then made a dash for the parking lot and hopped into his vehicle. Pushing the button to make the engine come to life, as he’d left his keys in the dorm room, he reversed from his spot and stomped down on the gas, window rolling down to follow the sound of the motorcycle engine, not wanting to let it get away.

San Francisco was a place Harry has grown familiar with in the four years he's been here. His mother had moved down six or seven years ago, but he'd hung back in London with his ‘Nana’ to help with her bakery and finish high school. It was then that he really started to pull his head out of his ass, and realized there was more to life than fighting, drugs and drinking. He moved past the stage of getting shitfaced every night, and instead used his knowledge to start up his own drug business. It wasn't that large, or really even a business. He was a single man operation who has a large group of people he sells to, and he only ever gets his supplies from one man; his uncle Ron.

Ron was the man his… Anne grew up with. He was her brother, for all intents and purposes, and even joined the ‘gang’ a young Des and Anne started. Reapers soul. All that you've heard about bike gangs is pretty much true. Murder isn't something you should shy away from, blood and guts no longer makes any one queasy, drug deals are their normal Tuesday’s and death isn't something you should fear. Despite growing up watching as blood was shed, and people were constantly coming in and out of his dad’s shop nearly beaten to death, he's never been one for violence. Sure, he likes to kick ass when it's needed, but he doesn't seek it out like everyone else seems to.

And he's learned you should never rat, or be friends with a rat. There was only ever one rat in the Reaper’s soul history, and he was exiled as quickly as he'd been brought in. Austin was Des and Anne’s old time friend, who decided he needed a lot more cash than what they were giving him so he fed some Intel to the police and got the place busted. Des knew, though. Had every London cop under his thumb, so nothing was to be found in the Mechanic shop. But after that, the trust in London was gone and he suspected everyone was out to get him so him and Anne picked up and moved.

Austin walked away with his back burned, ridding him of the tattoo of the reaper, broken ribs, and the fear of god put into his body. Nobody has heard from him since, and some nights when the dark, loneliness seeps into Harry's bones, he wonders what happened to Austin’s son, the kid he grew up with and had, admittedly, grown a little too fond of. Eight years later and he can't recall his name, just the nickname he'd given him and those unsettling blue eyes that could look through you with just one glance.  _Bunny._

His fatuation with the boy was what first made him question his sexuality, but at the time he wouldn't accept it. He was Harry Styles, son of Des and Anne Styles who have made quite a name for themselves all across the world. He couldn't be some fag, couldn't rub dicks with another guy. But then adulthood creeped over him and he finally accepted that he liked dick. Big fucking deal. His parents probably took that a lot better than they did when he showed them his grades his first year of college. They still didn't believe their son was, to them, some fucking intelligent weirdo who was actually doing  _amazing_  in college.

He just chose not to tell them what he was majoring in, or that following his four years in college would be another four years of medical school. They didn't need to know yet, though. Harry wasn't ready to tell them he was ditching the family business once he got his degree and was going completely legit and legal. They'd both die of heart attacks.  _He was their star quarterback._

Shaking off the thoughts, Harry pulled into a small diner and killed his engine before he climbed off his bike and stretched, ass numb from his vibrating seat. The feeling of being watched hadn't went away, but he ignored it and walked through the door that jingled and gave a small wave at the short, stubby woman behind the counter.

“That time of the year again?” She asked, eyes lighting up as she pulled Harry into an awkward hug with his stomach digging into the counter that was still between them. He only ever visited this place during the school year. During the summer he tried to get as far away from San Francisco as he possibly could without crossing any borders or having to fly.

After a little small talk, Harry was sent outside to the seating area with a paper cup full of black coffee in hand. He popped the lid off and set in a red, plastic chair, the umbrella above the table blocking the last few hours of the sunrays.

The place the motorcycle had Harry ended up was somewhere Louis was actually familiar with. He’d stopped here before, even with his parents when they were driving through from their way home from Seattle for a business trip. With the gravel crunching under his tires, sure to catch the attention of anyone in the diner and in the surrounding homes, he swung into a parking spot, conveniently next to where the motorcycle was parked. He sat there for a second, staring at the exterior of the building, not realizing that Harry was sitting outside probably staring at him, too. Louis had made sure to get tinted windows, he could see out, but nobody could see in.

A sudden burst of noise made Louis jump. He’d turned the engine off, the only noise being the soft tick-tick-tick as it cooled down, creating silence in the vehicle. Looking around as if someone had witnessed his scare, he peered into the backseat. Pushing the wheel up to slide out from under it and half dove to squish himself through the tiny space between the front and back seat until he found the ringing device. Oh yeah, his second cell phone. He’d completely forgotten about it.

“Hello? No Zayn, I’m busy doing a project. I told Ed and Jules, they were supposed to tell you, but obviously didn’t?” Louis was glad for the phone, Zayn being the only one who knew the number, as his parents tended to blow his phones up with text messages and missed calls demanding he return the favor. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up for me, you have classes tomorrow.”  _Neener neener!_ Louis’s internal child was blowing a raspberry as he had two more days to sleep in until his own started.

Opening the door, he stepped out, pocketing his cell phone and tried to ignore the man standing under the umbrella sipping something out of a cup as he headed for the door. The familiar jingle of the bell announcing his presence rang in the half-empty diner as a bored looking woman rubbed a washcloth over the same spot on the counter. Seating himself at a stool, he picked up a menu, not ravenous, but he could use something to nosh on, or sip at.

“Strawberry milkshake and some curly fries, please?” Louis asked when the woman gave a damn and walk over. She eyed Louis then went to put the order in. Shuddering at the cold look and atmosphere, he mumbled something about horrible customer service then flicked the menu away to pull his phone out and scroll through it again.

The cup was drained in minutes, only small droplets of the black, bitter liquid clinging to the inside of the cup. Squishing it in his hand, Harry tossed it in the trash behind him and debated on returning to the college, but then decided against it. Making his way back inside with his arms folded over his chest, he sat at a lone booth in the corner of the room.

College wasn't bad, per say. He just didn't enjoy busting his ass to get good grades, while having to watch as nearly everyone else around him lost the shits they once gave and let their lives slip through their fingers. Sometimes he wondered if something was wrong with him, because he didn't really enjoy parties that much anymore, but then he was always reminded that he used to party when he was only a young teen. He did half the shit all these people did before they even grew hair on his balls, and he just grew tired of it all. Of constantly getting shitfaced and having a predictable life that was leading nowhere.

Making something of himself was a lot better than ending up like his parents. He couldn't… He couldn't  _run_  the mechanic shop and be part of their stupig gang for longer than he had to. “Hi, Sweetie. Can I get you anything else?” Rose asked, the woman who he has grown to look at as an older sister, who always greeted him with a smile when she seen him walking in.

Thumbing at the cheap menu, he pursed his lips and was honestly thinking it over when his phone rang, blaring the loud, ungodly music he liked. “Hold on, love,” he mumbled, more to himself than her as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and squinted at the screen. Rather than answering, he swiped his finger across the screen and let it go to voicemail, then turned the phone on silent and set it on the table face down. He'd only been in town for less than a day and he's already tired of his family.

“Just another coffee, please.” His stomach couldn't handle much more today. It was twisting in on itself. He was worrying about failing this school year, about not making enough money to pay for all of his expenses. How funny would it be if he actually fucked up this year? Three years of hard fucking work, sweat, literal blood, and possibly a few tears all thrown away in one single year.  _Fuck. Did he have enough money?_

Louis was busily dipping his fries in his milkshake, gobbling them down like they were his last meal when the bell jingled indicating someone walked in. Nosey as he was, Louis shifted eyes to look, almost choking on his concoction when it was the same man from outside and the subject of his drawing tucked in the bag in his vehicle. Mumbling a curse, he swallowed the mouthful, chasing the salty sweet with a sip of his shake then a drink of ice water. Pressing heel of his hand to his forehead when the searing ice cream headache started, he thanked the Gods that the weird woman occupied herself with the new patron.

The ringing of the stranger’s phone reminded him of his own in his pocket as he pulled it out to see yet another message from Zayn. He wasn’t going to that party if he could help it. Ignoring the text, he threw it on the counter beside his red and white basket of fries then pulled out a smaller version of the huge notepad he held so dear. Drawing a crude outline of the diner, he made a few changes to the greasy spoon on the paper, giving the skinny lady (owner?) a plumper body in his drawing and a big mole on her chin along with a hairnet for comical purposes.

“Hilda.. No, Helen? Jackie?” Louis mumbled to himself, playing around with the nametag attached to the cartoon version of the lady. “Flo.. nah, too Progressive,” His eraser doing overtime as his fingers swept away the crumbs once again. “I can come back to that.”

Immediately picturing the diner in  _Riverdale_ , he drew a jukebox in the corner with music notes surrounding it as an indication it was on, teens dancing to it as waitresses on roller skates passed by with trayfuls of food. He was having too much fun with this!

Snapping a picture, he sent it to Zayn then set the phone and notepad beside his plate, sliding off his stool to head for where the bathroom signs indicated the restrooms were. The employee looked busy with the curly-haired man, both of whom were ignored by Louis as he passed them by, choosing to instead stare out into the parking lot and his car and the motorcycle being in his line of sight, then a red camero as it pulled in next to Louis’ jeep and swung the driver door open, almost bashing his car door in the process.

Harry wasn't listening to Rose talk, too focused on the small male walking past them to really even hear the words dripping past her parted lips. He looked familiar, and Harry's brain tried to conjure up a memory with him but he couldn't figure out where he knew him from. The muddled memories wouldn't resurface, too waterlogged to bring anything but little snips of a boy on campus. He looked young, probably only eighteen, but past his mature face had  _something_  in Harry's stomach tugging.

Huh, weird. He had probably seen him around the school or something, but even then that thought didn't sit right. Shoving it off, or really just pressing it to the back of his mind to leave for his future self to obsess over, he smiled up at Rose and nodded at what she said. “Yeah, yeah. Actually, love. ‘M going to head out.” He said, flipping open the wad of cash he always kept stuffed in his back pocket. Slipping her a few bills, some larger than others, he winked at her before he stood and brushed off his jacket.

Just as he was stepping away from the booth, a hard body slammed into his side and made him stumble and inch or two before he caught himself and smoothed out his jacket that had, apparently, wrinkled at the hard contact. “Watch where the fuck you're going, dickwad,” Harry growled, watching as the shorter man flinched back from him and quickly scurried back the way he had come without saying anything.  _Okay, so maybe he had a temper._

Running fingers through his long hair, Harry pushed back the disrupted curls and shoved open the door. Rather than leaving right away like he first intended, he leaned against the jeep next to his bike and lit a fag, shoulders rolling to try and rid himself of the worry that hung like a thick, heavy cloak over them. Sending a text out to Ron, he took another deep drag off his cigarette and ashed it.  _Now, he waited._

Returning to his stool, Louis finished the rest of his milkshake and fries. He’d noticed the booth the tall stranger had been in was vacant, making him slightly sad and kind of relieved. Pushing his own money under the box his fries had been in, he grabbed a toothpick to settle between his teeth and pushed the door open to emerge into the warm evening weather. His eyes were on the phone in his hand as he conversed with Zayn via text message, the other man typing back quickly and urging Louis to come to the party, even though Louis kept insisting he didn’t want to go. If he went back to campus now, he’d be roped into going, his friend obviously keeping an eye out for his vehicle. He had to go somewhere.

Walking over to his jeep, he pulled open his driver door and reached over to turn the key, letting his music blare into the quiet night as phone was thrown into the cup holder and Louis looked around a few times before pulling a baggie from his pocket and lighting a joint, keeping it cupped by his small hand though the scent would give him away if anybody were to come into the parking lot. He didn’t care though, it was legal, though people still frowned upon others using it.

Turning to face the passenger door, he pushed his windows down to air out his jeep and just settle back, about to push the button to recline his seat when he noticed a fuzzy head of curls standing beside his jeep. It was the guy! With wide blue eyes, Louis slammed his door and was backing quickly out of his parking spot and away from the diner in a hurry to be anywhere. Why was he running from him? He didn’t know.

Louis didn’t stop until he was in downtown San Francisco, parking along main street and heading into the shops there. He had no intention of buying anything, but when stressed or bored, he tended to go shopping, and usually came out with a good many bags of stuff he didn’t need.

Harry had been minding his own damn business one second, just enjoying his cigarette as he casually inhaled the skunk ass weed someone was smoking, then the next he was falling on his ass and watching as the jeep tore out of the parking lot. He thought he'd heard the sound of a door closing, but he'd been too lost in thought to actually pay attention to it or the actual car turning on.

Quickly climbing to his feet, he scanned the area around him to make sure he was alone and nobody had heard the small, very unmanly scream he had let out on his way down. Picking up his cancer stick that had rolled away, he glared at the turn the jeep had disappeared around and flicked his smoke in that direction. Childish, and futile maybe, but who cares? The kid had left like he had fucking hit men on his ass. Dick.

Choosing to sit on his bike, where he knew he would be safe and his ass wouldn't get bruised more than it already most likely was, Harry grabbed his phone and dialed Liam’s number, ignoring the numerous texts he's got from Anne and all his missed calls. “Look out for a black cherry colored jeep that should be pulling into the fucking school soon. Find out the fucking pricks name, then let me know,” he barked into the phone, treating Liam like he was his own personal bitch before he hung up the phone and quickly read over the text from Ron.

Game time. Starting his bike, Harry slowly backed it up, being a lot nicer and more cautious than that little bitch had been, then he was driving. Due to him thinking helmets were for little bitches, his hair whipped his face as he drove, the cold nipp of the wind chilling his face instantly and making the strands of hair feel like little blades slicing his face. And his ass hurt.  _He fucking hated people._

Forgotten was what happened back at the diner as Louis entered his favorite shop of all times. It was old, obviously, but the shop owner took good care of it and he only bought his art supplies from them as they were friend of the family and usually Louis couldn’t stand anyone who was associated with his parents but Graham was a grandfatherly type that just seemed safe and lovely. He always welcomed Louis into the shop, or his daughter did. It was a family owned shop and Louis was slowly becoming part of the family.

“Hey Louis, you back for more pencils already?” Graham called from his spot in the corner of the store, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He slowly got up as fast as his arthritic knees would allow him to and had a package of Louis’ favorite utensils on the glass topped counter. “Sale on them this week.”

Louis grinned warmly. He was probably the shop’s best customer, he did tell his friends all about the shop, refusing to buy pencils or pads anywhere but from Graham. Supporting local businesses was what he did. Heading for where he knew the charcoals were and ink pens, he carefully looked over the colors, choosing a bright pink and black, the two colors that seemed to always disappear the fastest. Setting them on the counter beside the pencils, then side stepped to the rack of drawing pads and grabbed another one. One could never have enough supplies.

After paying and promising Graham he’d stop back again, he headed for his jeep just as a sleek black car pulled up behind it.  _Aw shit, not now!_  Louis fought to roll his eyes as he climbed into his jeep to set the bag in the passenger seat and was set to back out and pull away when a large hand grabbed the door to stop him.

“Louis William Tomlinson! You think you can come to my part of town without saying hi to me?”

The obnoxious Southern accent sang out between two heavily painted lips with matching pink top that hurt one’s eyes if they looked directly at it and high heels that made the normally five foot woman loom over you. Louis blew out a breath and plastered a fake smile on his face as he climbed out of the vehicle to embrace the woman, regretting it when a whiff of lavender perfume almost made him lose his snack.

“Gran, how are you? I completely forgot you had a shop up here.” Louis was smiling so hard his face hurt. His grandmother was 100% Italian and looked and sounded the part. She hated that her son, Louis’s father, had married a damn Brit and moved overseas. Imagine her joy when the family moved back, only to locate to Louisiana for a few years for “business” - his father was hiding from someone or something - then back up to California, without bothering to tell Rita Matson they were back. Rita took it hard and never missed a chance to cuss out her son at every occasion.

Louis’ own accent was a weird mix of British / southern American, but he was fighting to keep the British out of it and had to talk carefully to sound more American. Sliding back into his car, he turned the key and revved the engine to get his grandmother to hurry up and say what she needed to say, he wanted out of here.

“That godawful accent of yours, Louis William.” Rita scrunched her nose, store keys dangling from bubble gum painted pink nails. “Anyway. Dinner at my house on Saturday. I expect you and your family there. I already informed your parents, but they told me they had no idea where you were, so I’m glad I ran into you. It’s a  _mandatory_  dinner, Louis. You WILL be there.”

Now he allowed himself to roll his eyes as he waved goodbye to the woman and took off back to campus. He sped back to the parking lot, pleased his space was still open and pulled in. Feeling himself being watched now, he looked around at the rapidly darkening property. The party was apparently involving a large bonfire someone had started in the pit with dozens of chairs and benches surrounding it.

Sliding out, he reached back to grab his bags and extra phone. Keeping an eye on the figures gathered around the bonfire, he ducked down to rush back to the freshman dorm without anyone seeing him.

Ron was always happy to see Harry, even when it was to deal with the business he wished his nephew never would have gotten in to. He was a tallish man with a stocky build, square jaw and green eyes that were too hard for his age, yet soft when he gazed at his loved ones. He was a man who had seen too much, had scars covering his body to back up the crazy stories he told at the family dinners as they all sat in the backyard and just enjoyed the company with one another. Harry was more like him than his own blood family. He stayed in the back, only ever bringing attention to himself when he knew it was necessary so he didn't end up getting called out on his shit and drug into a circle where he was passed from aunt to uncle to cousin to grandmother, all checking over his growing body and asking  _why_  he didn't talk to anyone.

Bringing the man into a half hug, Harry let one of his rare grins break out across his face, the one that was paired with two craters in his cheeks. “Anne told me you cut your hair,” Harry said, fingers brushing through the man's hair to ruffle the short, blonde waves. “Looks good, old man.”

Ron smiled that damned smile with the crinkles around his eyes and lips, and swatted Harry's hand away. He may be smaller than the giant, if only by a few inches, but he could still whip his ass. “Shut it, Styles. You're not too old for an ass whoopin’.” Laughing, Ron suddenly sobered up and his eyes instantly lost that softness Harry had been talking about earlier. “Two hundo worth. Make sure whoever this goes to uses it smart, cause it's a new strain. It's the real shit, H. If it gets in the wrong hands…” He cut off to let out a low whistle, but he didn't need to finish his sentence. Harry knew what he meant.

When he seen that hand go to reach for the bag slung over Ron’s bike, he immediately darted his eyes around the vacant store parking lot they were parked in. The street lamps were just turning on, casting yellow lights on the streets that illuminated the cracked asphalt. Cars drove past them, but they were hidden in the shadows, too far away from the main road to be spotted unless someone actually  _tried_ to look for them.

Taking his cash from his pocket, Harry counted out the exact amount before he passed it to Ron, who in exchange handed him a large paper bag and a smaller one. “Big one is for your guy, the smaller one is for you. I don't know what kind of shit you're into now days, but do with it as you will. Hell, flip it and sell it for twice the amount it's worth. I don't give a damn,” Ron shrugged, instantly cringing when he heard that American twinge sneak into his voice. “Fuck, man. Your parents better figure out what the fuck they're doing. I'm not walking around with no hick accent. Fuck that.” Scrubbing at his neck, Ron blushed lightly before he waved a hand in front of him.

“Get going. It's late. I better see you at the dinner Friday.” Saluting Harry, Ron punched his arm playfully before he climbed on his bike and disappeared into the darkness.

Standing there for a second, Harry exhaled slowly before he shook his head and stuffed the bags into his own bag that was on his bike. Time to go back to the campus, and endure the wrath of his parents who were undoubtedly still hanging out at his dorm.  _Great._

Forgetting he’d left his music on at his own dorm, he was startled to hear voices. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed a heavy book and held it above his head, jumping into his dorm room and seeing.. Nobody. Sighing, he walked over to close the app on his computer then sat on his bed. The patio doors were still open facing to the senior building, he’d remembered to ask someone earlier who resided in it. Cute older boys? Why not.

Hearing voices again, Louis perked up and rolled onto his belly to peer out the doors. He hadn’t turned on the light, so he wouldn’t be seen. Whoever lived in the dorm directly across from them weren’t home, or were a middle aged couple. The woman was pacing back and forth while a man’s voice was speaking incoherently. He was straining to hear what was being said when his dorm room opened and Zayn came rushing in, flicking the light on the process and causing Louis to fall onto the floor with an oomph. Getting up, he shut the French doors and drew the curtains then glared at his room mate.

“Damnit! I was spying on them and you ruined it.” Using a notebook, he smacked Zayn with it then sank back onto his bed to unpack the bags he’d gotten while out.

Zayn stood there for a second in shock, then shook his head, remembering why he’d come up. “Wait.. no.. Louis, you gotta come down to the party! It’s getting twisted.”

Rolling eyes up, he carefully set his new pencils and pens in his art kit along with his new notepad. “I don’t have to do anything. I told you I don’t feel like partying and from what I saw when I came back to campus, y’all were sitting around a campfire. Doing what? Telling stories? No thank you, girl scouts.”

He plugged his still dead phone into the charger he’d unearthed from the bottom of his bag, having packed in a hurry for college this morning, even if he had the whole summer to do it, he liked to leave things to the last minute and not do anything neatly. Not like his mother or father would help him, either.

“Now if you’ll excuse me. I forgot something in my car. I’ll walk with you back down, but you’re going to the party alone. I'll see everyone when classes start.” Louis set his computer onto the desk and got up to shoo Zayn out of his room and lock the door behind him.

After meeting Justin, Harry ducked his head as walked out of the house thumping with music. With the three hundred dollars now resting safely in his pocket, he twirled his keys around his finger and quickly walked down the sidewalk before anybody could see him and drag him to the bonfire where a bunch of idiots were taking turns throwing things in.

He was about to make a clean getaway, too, when a muscular arm was slung over his shoulder, the weight enough to drag him down a little to the man’s height. “Louis Tomlinson, mate. He's the bloke we grew up with. You know? Austin’s son.” Liam said, breath reeking of booze ghosting over Harry’s face.

Cringing at the name, Harry stopped dead in his tracks and blinked once, twice, before the name finally registered in his poorly working brain and made a flood of unwanted memories swamp his vision. Fuck! He knew he looked familiar. “When did he move here?” He hissed, dragging his plastered friend off the sidewalk and towards the shadows cast by the senior building.

“I don't know,” hiccup, burp, “you asked me to find out who he was. I did. That bloke, Zayn, is here too. The one you…” A very, very unattractive burp/squeal that had the stench of whiskey pouring from between his friends lips. “You fought after he-- after he did somethin’.” Clearly lost in the alcohol, Harry scrubbed at his forehead when he realized Liam was of no use anymore. Pushing him away, Harry stomped towards his dorm without speaking another word.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? The offspring of a rat was going to the same school as him, and if his parents were to find out he knew they'd end up murdering the poor idiot. He had nothing against Louis, really. Except for the fact that he made him fall on his ass, but that seemed to small compared to everything else. He didn't feel like a child should be blamed for their parents mistakes, but Anne and Des felt differently. They would have killed the entire family if they hadn't fled so fast.

Opening the door to his dorm, he walked past Hank who threw a very unhelpful, “Your parents are in your room,” over his shoulder by the time Harry was already walking into his empty ass room.  _Oh god._

“HARRY EDWARD STYLES! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG WE HAVE BEEN WAITING!!!” Anne shrieked as soon as Harry stumbled into the room, the younger man knowing it was too late now to turn back and run away.

As Louis walked toward his vehicle, trying to stay in the shadows, but unknowingly stalked by his redheaded friend who was waiting for him in the parking lot. Once again Louis jumped as he unlocked his car door to rummage through the crap still left in it. Pulling out the sweaters he’d stowed there just in case it got cold and extra blankets - Louis ran very cold and was often wearing a sweater when everyone around them were in tank tops and tee shirts, he piled them under his arm and pushed the button to lock his car back up.

“Yo Lou. Can you do me a favor in exchange for a little something something?” The ginger asked, a toothy grin following the question. Ed staggered for a second, beer sloshing from his cup as he reached for Louis’ arm to steady himself. “Forgot some shit in my dorm. I need you to go get it because . . obviously, you’re the only sober one around here.”

Louis was about to say no, take his stuff and go back to his dorm and possibly Netflix and chill by himself until he fell asleep or watch some porn before sleeping. He didn’t need anything from Ed right now. Lord knows the two had their share of moments, having been friends with benefits before becoming actual friends. But then he remembered he was in college and wanted to not be boring, even if refusing to go to the first party of the year would be considered boring.

“Fine, fine. You owe me.. Some x, Ed.” Ed gave Louis a look then a nod as he pressed some into Louis’ palm. “OK, what do you need?”

After getting a detailed list, that took forever because in Ed’s drunken state of mind, he repeated stuff over and over or got distracted, Louis took a couple tabs then took off sprinting for the senior dorm. Maybe he’d run into the person whose room was right across from his, but how would that proceed? “Oh hey, I see your room is across from mine! I've been noticing you!” Not stalkerish at all!

Not even realizing that the seniors might think it weird a freshman was in their dorm and he forgot to ask Ed what number his room was, Louis all but leapt up the stairs to the building and threw open the doors. Noticing the person sitting at an official looking desk, he strutted over and put both hands on the wooden surface. “Can you tell me what room Ed Sheeran is in? I’m on a mission to get something for him.”

The D.A. ignored Louis while he finished writing out his paper then finally set the pen down and peered up at the man. “Are you a friend of his? A relative?”

Louis sighed, “A friend. I need to pick up something for him. He’s right outside in the courtyard and before you ask why he didn’t come himself, he’s inebriated right now. So just tell me his number.”

Another sigh from the D.A. and Louis was finally told room 342. Rushing up the stairs to the third floor, he passed by each door, silently ( or he thought he was saying it silently, when in actuality, he was muttering it aloud ) then stopped in front of Ed’s. He reached out for the doorknob when an unattractive scream of someone’s full name came from behind the neighboring door.

Wait..

Wait.. HARRY? Harry Styles, Harry Styles, Har.. oh shit.

Louis’s eyes got wide and he should have turned and ran but instead, his feet walked him over to Harry’s door where he stood in front of a wide open door and the man himself standing there with a deer in the headlights look as two angry look adults stood before him. Oh shit.

Kicking his door open the rest of the way, Harry suppressed a groan and threw up both of his hands. “I was fucking busy. Why the fuck should I be expected to drop everything when you two call?” It wasn't a complete lie, but Anne didn't need to know that. Dully noting the bags stacked on his bed, Harry turned to leave the room when he happened to look up and see Louis just standing there, watching him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

Fucking fuck!

“Hank, close the fucking door!” His voice carried through the house, loud and authoritative. It seemed to snap Louis from his trance because he closed his mouth, then opened it again like he wanted to say something, but was cut off when the door was slammed in his face. Just in time, too, because Harry was being pushed back into the doorframe with an arm pressed against his chest, holding him in place.

He could break free if he wanted, but he just let his father do as he pleased. An aging face grew close to his, the wrinkles surrounding his dark eyes seemingly disappearing. “You will respect her, Harry. She gave birth to you, and spent her own money to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry pushed his father off of him and used his height to his advantage. “I didn't ask for shit,  _Desmond_. She's the one who insists on doing this every year.” Shoving past him, and hitting him with his shoulder a lot harder than needed, Harry went into his bedroom and opened the balcony doors before he grabbed the bags full of things and began to dump out the contents. Notebooks, pens, pencils, erasers, sticky notes, folders, a laptop and a few other things went falling to the ground below him, the laptop making a satisfying shattering noise on impact. 

“There, now I don't have shit. Get the fuck out of my room, go get your shit, and leave. If I wanted you here I would have  _called_.” He eyed the flat screen t.v sitting next to his bed, and hesitated when he got the urge to toss it out too. It may make him seem ungrateful, throwing all this shit out, but he wouldn't hear the end of it. He never does when they buy him things. accepting it all would just end up being a bigger headache than he needed.

Picking up the 42 inch television, he shoved it at Des and turned to his mum who had a hand clutched over her mouth with tears trailing down her cheeks. “I love you, but  _leave me alone. Let me breathe.”_  He was trying to convince himself that he was doing this because he was a nearly twenty two year old man who needed space, but in the same thought came memories of a short ass, little fluffy ball of hell hopping through the grease covered floor with chocolate smeared across his face. He couldn't have his parents poking around here and chance having them see Louis. He needed… he needed time to figure out what the fuck to do.

“I can not believe you would do this after  _everything_  I have done for you,” Anne said in her fake sob voice, making her vocal chords shake unnaturally. “Don't expect anything from me, Harry. I'm done.” And as if that wasn't department enough, she brought her ring covered hand up and smacked Harry across the cheek before she stormed out of the room with Des following behind her, the latter of the two throwing a glare over his shoulder.

 _Rude!_  Louis thought of the door being slammed in his face. He should be afraid of the people behind it, but oddly, he wasn’t. It was his parents’ fight, not his. Retreating back to Ed’s room, he popped open the door and headed inside, trying to remember where the drunken man had said the rest of the drugs were. Rummaging around in the room, Louis was getting a thrill out of snooping - with permission - through peoples’ personal property, everything had a story, some he’d rather not learn about. Finally locating the plastic bags Ed was talking about, he stuffed them all in his pocket

Hearing footsteps storming past the room, he opened the door a crack to see the two older Styles marching past. Waiting until they were out of sight, he pulled the door open the rest of the way to let himself out then crept up to Harry’s door again. It was closed, once again. Standing in front of it for a moment, he shifted from foot to foot then shook head and swivled on his heel to head for the stairs, unknowingly dropping a bag out of his pocket and onto the floor.

Rushing down the steps, he jumped the last five and landed none too swiftly on the ground floor, almost stumbling as he ignored the D.A. to rush outside and toward the bon fire. Ed and Zayn greeted him, along with someone named Liam, who looked familiar, but Louis couldn’t place. What was with these ghosts from the past coming back to haunt him now that he was in college?

“Lou, stay and have a few drinks. Come on!” Zayn patted the empty seat next to him, ignoring the blonde sitting on his lap, her big blue eyes staring at Louis in accusation, like it was his fault Zayn wasn’t paying attention to some random ho he’d just met. “Please?”

Quickly handing the bags over to Ed, he gave in and took the seat next to Zayn. Ed and him cheered as Zayn passed over a vodka cranberry. How could he resist this? Especially since whomever had made it, loaded the glass with maraschino cherries ( his favorite ). Fishing out a cherry, he bit into the sweet fruit and flicked the stem onto the ground. Stretching arms above his head, he threw legs over the side of the chair, glad he was small enough to slide down comfortably in it and not fall out.

Popping a couple more tabs into his mouth, Louis sucked down the drink then grabbed for another one at random, an orange looking one that tasted like a dreamsicle when he wrapped mouth around the straw and took a first sip. He didn’t mind this one, either.

A few drinks turned into a full bottle of vodka being shared between Louis and Zayn, both with glassy eyes and red noses by the end of the party, when the fire was dying out and dawn was only a few hours away. But Louis was still alert and ready to go. Anywhere. Just don’t ask him to drive because he was seeing two of everything and it was extremely hot outside, as he’d shed his sweater and shoes and socks somewhere.

Harry was the kind of person that, rather than admitting he was wrong or trying to fix things, he'd rather sit alone and drink away the memories. Alcohol wasn't that common in his life anymore, but tonight it was the only thing that would save him. Not too worried about his classes, because he didn't start for another two days, Harry left Hank alone in the dorm and snuck down to the party to steal some of the booze, seeing as he hadn't thought ahead and brought some with him.

The frat house the party was at was trashed with only a few sweaty bodies left grinding to the music that was now a low thump. Stepping over more piles of vomit than he would have cared to, Harry ransacked the kitchen and nearly cheered in victory when he found a full bottle of spiced rum tucked in one of the cupboards. It was weak, but it would do.

He had the cap off and thrown over his shoulder by the time he reached the fire, green eyes reflecting the soft orange glow of the low flames as he collapsed in a folding chair next to Liam. “You're fucked,” Harry said, eyes skating over his friend that was leaning to one side with a Chick between his legs who was lazily lapping at his neck.

Shaking his head when he got only a grunt in response, Harry tipped the bottle back and let warm liquid pool in his mouth before he swallowed quickly and repeated the action. A shudder ran down his spine as his insides became warm and fuzzy, chasing away the coldness that had seeped beneath his jacket.

Tuning into a few conversations, Harry kept his eyes from straying to the right side of him where only a few chairs down sat Louis, and pulled out a rolled up baggy he'd stuffed into his pocket before coming out. If he was getting fucked up, he might as well do it right. He pulled out a joint that, contrary to it's looks, would fuck your dome. He soaked the papers in acid before he made joint, a few drops of oil also having seeped into the weed.

Nobody paid any attention to him as he lit it, taking a few quick puffs to get the cherry rolling before he allowed himself to actually take a deep hit off of it. Holding the smoke in his lungs, he took a large sip from his bottle and let a tab from his bag melt on his tongue before he slowly exhaled. “Anybody want some?” He asked, a nice buzz already settling on his skin that felt like like a hundred tiny insect legs. His main goal tonight was to get fucked up so he could forget the world and all of his demons he's tried to keep locked away.

New faces were all a blur to Louis as he licked at his glass to get the last drops then let the red cup fall from his hands. He frowned at the empty vodka bottle dangling from Zayn’s fingers, his friend having passed out only seconds before. Lightweight! Louis was smaller than him and still going strong. Flicking tongue out, he grabbed for what looked like a full bottle of tequila on the ground and twisted it open to take a drink, only to catch a whiff and immediately chucked the bottle. Someone had pissed into it, too lazy to get up and head into the frat house to use the restroom. Animals. Though Louis would be guilty of that, too.

Sighing, he took note of some drinks on a card table situated nearby then another bottle by his feet. He cautiously picked that one up and twisted the cap as the crackling of the seal being broken rushed to his ears. YES! More alcohol! Greedily placing the bottle to his lips, he gulped down the liquid, stomach burning from the contents. Pulling it away, he capped it again then wiped at his mouth to look around again. Ed was nowhere to be seen. Liam was busy with some chick and Harry, oh, Harry had come to join them? Eugh.

“Gonna go back to my dorm..” Louis hiccuped. It took two pushes to get himself on his feet and even then he tottered, knees threatening to give out as he steadied himself and started for the paved sidewalks, each a different color to indicate which building it lead to. But which sidewalk lead to his? He couldn’t remember, nor had he been paying attention as it’d been light out and he could see the signs. Shit.

Looking back at the group, he stumbled over to Zayn, almost falling onto the man’s lap, as he randomly remembered there had been a girl there when he’d joined them. Wrapping arms around his best friend’s passed out frame, he whispered in his ear, trying to coax him awake.

“You suck, Zee.” Louis lisped as he put the bottle to his lips, tongue ring clinking against the glass as he took a few more swallows. He refused to acknowledge the guy who’d rudely slammed the door on him earlier. “Someone who’s in the freshman dorm should walk with me back to the building.. Please?”

Everyone was ignoring Harry which was fine, more for him then. He played it off like they were too fucked up to even acknowledge him, but he knew it was because most were intimidated by him. Whoopty fucking do. Whatever. Chugging some of the liquid, Harry chased it with a few more puffs off his magical stick before he dropped the half smoked joint to the ground and stomped on it.

“You're a big boy. You can do it,” Harry thought he'd only been thinking it in his head, but was actually surprised when he felt his chest rumble with the words. Eyes widening slightly when his entire world was suddenly surrounded by a colorful grid that parted the few clouds, Harry blinked past the things floating in his eyes and focused on Louis again. “You can drink, then you can walk. Have fun.”

Smiling around the neck of his bottle, Harry finished it off and tossed the glass into the fire. Dangerous, he knows. Sue him. Already done with this boring shitshow, Harry shook his slobbering friend awake. “Come on, Li. It's time to go.” The pet names he usually calls his friend was shoved in a dark corner, not wanting these freaks to hear him and get the wrong idea. Gently taking Liam’s hand, Harry tried to drag him to his feet only to have long, claw like nails swipe down the back of his hand.

“Back off, Styles. He's mine.” The Chick from earlier hissed, honest to god looking like a fucking gremlin in his eyes when her beady eyes, glimmering in the moonlight, found the four bloody marks she'd made down his hand. “Go find someone else to fuck, Dick.”

He wasn't a woman hitter, he really wasn't, but it wasn't his fault when his chair “collapsed” and hit Blondie in the head, instantly knocking her unconscious. She fell in Liam’s lap, mouth wide open on his cloth covered dick and he made no effort to move her or wake Liam again. “Dumb bitch.” fuck, his hand  _really_ stings.

Biting back a giggle when Harry got what was coming for him, he capped his bottle and tucked it under his arm. He wasn’t about to acknowledge the curly haired one, knowing what people had been saying about him all night when the drugs came out to be passed around, but Louis wasn’t afraid of him.

“So again, anyone want to walk with me back to Freshman?” Louis held up his hand then licked over lips, tongue ring glowing a soft orange. He gave his friend Zayn a poke again, getting no reaction from him.

A male who’d been quiet the whole time spoke up, standing up without a trace of difficulty. “I’ll come with, heading that way, too.” The brunette gave Louis a wink as the darker haired one blushed slightly, glad to be in the guise of the darkness. Louis hadn’t seen the guy around before as he got up and joined Louis in standing.

“So, Mr. White Horse, who are you?” He wanted to be polite and introduce himself, whole hand shake and everything, but he misjudged his step in his drunken state and went tripping over nothing to land almost smothered in the man’s shirt. “...sorry, so sorry.”

Nice first impression, thank god everyone was pretty much drunk or passed out. It obviously didn’t bother the guy as he situated himself to wrap arm around Louis, pretty much holding his bony ass up.

“No worries, man. I’ll get you to bed with a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand for when you wake up.” Stranger winked at Louis, while Louis felt himself turning eight shades of red again, “It’s the nurse in me. Caring and thoughtful, especially for good looking guys.”

Louis giggled. Honestly to god giggled. Cuddling more into the man, he looked over at his passed out friend, wondering if they should try to get him into bed, too when the gal who’d been on his lap earlier came walking up, apparently sober as a judge.

“Ya got him, miss?” Louis asked the girl, who nodded and with the help of another girl, got Zayn to a standing position. “Just walk beside us, I can help if you start to fall.” No he couldn’t, but it was a nice gesture since none of the other males were jumping up to help. Rude.

Harry ignored the group of misfits banding together to help each other down the yellow brick road, eyes glossing over as his entire world shifted and he was welcomed back to the other side where he felt nothing and seen everything in bright, flashing colors. When he brushed fingers through his hair, the tips lit on fire and drug the flames through the brown waves and licked at the back of his neck.

Lost in the feeling, Harry stumbled behind the drunk train and unknowingly followed them to the dorms, only splitting ways when the doors to his dorm building slammed open and a man came tumbling out, vomit splattering the sidewalk and trickling down his shirt. “Glad to see you had fun, Hank,” Harry mumbled to the man, surprisingly stable enough to crouch down and slap his arm.  _Maybe his roommate wasn't so bad._

But when Hank looked up, pupils tiny pinpoints one second, then blown to the point there was only a tiny circle of brown surrounding them, Harry  _felt_  there something was wrong. “Hank, what the fuck did you take dude?” Worry creeped into Harry's voice, the doctor side of him he'd only just recently began to feed with knowledge rising.

Hank opened his mouth to respond, but vomit came shooting out before he fell forward, Harry barely catching him and still somehow managing to keep a grip even though his hands were sliding around on the vomit covered shirt. “Hank, come one dude. This isn't funny. Stop messing around,” yet, somehow, Harry  _knew_  he wasn't joking.

His insides twisting in momentary fear when the body in his hands began to shake violently, but he somehow managed to push past it and drag him through the vomit and onto the grass where he rolled him onto his side and checked to see if his airways were clear before he began to pat down his body. “Somebody call a fucking ambulance. Now!” His British accent became more evident when he yelled, words thick with it. He didn't know what the idiot had took, but the foam seeping past his lips smelt like a pharmacy, the harsh scent of dissolved pills making Harry's stomach flip.

He finally found a clear baggy clutched in Hank’s hand, and he had to force the fingers open to grab the bag that still had a few pills in it, resting down in the bottom with dust. He was instantly sober, anger spiking when he seen the two letters written at the top in black marker.  _Ed._ “Who the fuck is Ed!?! And did somebody call that fucking ambulance?”  _oh, wow, he had an audience now._

The yelling didn’t faze Louis as he pushed the door to his building open and stumbled inside, bringing the stranger with him. Laughing again, he pointed at the second floor, wishing the building had an elevator as he wasn’t quite sure he could make the stairs and would end up camping in the lobby, much to the freshmen dorm DA’s chagrin, Louis could tell the man didn’t like anyone.

A ringing in his pocket made him stop and look around at the stranger, “Do you hear that? Something’s ringing, Beautiful stranger!” He gripped the bannister, holding still to see if the ringing would happen again When it did, blue eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth, “I think it’s my phone. I don’t remember having it on me.”

“The name’s Cole, by the way,” The brunette said as he gently patted Louis’ pockets until he found the phone and fished it out.Turning the screen, he saw it was someone named ED ringing him. “It’s an Ed, do you know an Ed?”

Smacking lips together, Louis gave a nod and started going up the stairs more. “I know Ed.. good ginger guy who’s a senior this year. He gave me drugs. Do you want some?”

Cole shook his head and slid thumb over to answer the call, bringing it up to Louis’ ear, “No, Louis. The guy calling you is named Ed. Talk to him!” He gently gripped Louis’s waist to get the man to stop moving away from him, least he drop the phone and shatter it on the steps, that would be something he’d hate to sober up to.

“Oh okay… hi Ed, what’s up?” Louis slurred at the phone, hand going up to paw at it, trying to get a grip on it and instead gripping Cole’s thumb. “You’re what? Who the hell is Hank? And Harry Styles?” The name flashed recognition for a brief two seconds then the light flickered out. Sober Louis would remember it in a snap, drunk Louis was like an alzheimers patient. “Yah, we’ll be there in a few seconds. Bye.”

Carefully turning to face COle, he pointed at the door, “We gotta go help Ed. Somebody’s accusing him of something and ambulance and cops and something.”

The two backtracked the way they had come, hobbling across the campus to the senior wing, bypassing the courtyard where the bonfire was now a lingering ash and people were still passed out in the chairs, Liam and Zayn included.

“I should call . . someone to help. I don’t know who, but I should,” Louis was eyeing Zayn then his phone. “Or, wake that guy up. He’d be able to help? He’s my best friend.”

When Harry was sure Hank was done seizing, he was standing with the baggy clenched in his fist and stepping over the limp body to approach the group of people circling them. He heard someone mumble about Ed before a red haired man was shoved towards him, the phone that had been pressed against his ear falling to the grass. He was a short man with ungodly tattoos and fire red hair, one that Harry vaguely remembered seeing in a few of his classes.

“You gave him the drugs?” Harry asked, hands swiping down the front of his jeans where the puke clung to the material. He'd just end up throwing these pants away, too disgusted to even try and save them.

“L-Listen man, I don't even know who he is.” A shaky finger pointed to Hank, who was now groaning on the ground with his forehead pressed against his knees. “I-I had my mate, Louis, get my stash. Ask him,” and there was that name again. Fuck. Did everyone in this godforsaken school  _know_ him?

But Harry wasn't going to ask him, because he didn't care to talk to the short, foul mouthed asshole who had, indeed, caused his ass to bruise. Now, Harry didn't really think of himself as a Captain-Save-A-Ho type, but tonight he was just exceptionally pissed off and wanted  _someone_ to blame. “Funny how I keep hearing about Louis, isn't it?” Taking a step closer, Harry shoved Ed back and balled a hand into a fist, ready to punch him in the face when a loud ass siren pierced the silence and blue and red lights lit up the dark.

“This isn't over,” he spit, having no actual intention of ever bringing it up again but if he didn't want to go to jail, he really had to dip.

He was, what most would call, a cop magnet. He was constantly being pulled over, followed, and brought in for questioning over stupid things. And no, it wasn't just because of his parents “profession” but rather the fact that every cop in San Francisco was on Des and Anne’s payroll. They didn't give a fuck what Harry did, when he did it, or who he did it with, but they really liked fucking around with him and wasting his time.

“Harry Styles. Why is it that you are at almost every one of my crime scenes?” Lieutenant Shay asked, her eyebrows rising when she looked down at the motionless body covered in puke, then back up at Harry. “Oh, this should be good.”  _too fucking late_.

A gasp was heard behind the group as what Ed said was echoed back in stereo now that Louis was standing there in person. “Edward, don’t throw me under the fucking bus. All I did was get the fucking drugs, you’re the one who hocus pocuses the shit,” Nothing sobered him up more than being accused of something he didn’t do. Louis only took the drugs, he never sold them or handled them except for his own, not once had he delivered anything for the many drug dealers around San Francisco that ran in the same circles as he did. He didn’t want that over his head. “So fuck you and fuck those guys, too!”

Ed’s eyes were wide as he pointed desperately behind Louis. It reminded him of a horror movie where whatever was haunting them was standing there ready to pounce and kill the hero. Sighing, he spun on a heel and instead of a ghoul, he came face to face with a middle aged cop with obviously dyed blonde hair and heavily mascaraed eyes. He gave a loud sigh and peered at the name plate situated on the light blue blouse.

“So, Officer Shay? Can we forget anything happened? Just get the stupid kid to the hospital because he obviously had a reaction to something, an  _allergic_  reaction!” Louis turned to scream at Hank, rolling his eyes heavily. “For fuck’s sake child, you’re in college. Learn what your allergies are, mommy and daddy are not here to hold your hand or praise you when you go poop in the potty!”

Turning to fully face the one called Harry, Louis scoffed and brought a slim hand up to rub at his own jawline then let his hand drop. Sliding eyes to behind Harry where Cole was standing, looking both surprised and amused, obviously high off the adrenaline of what was going down. He was adorable.

Officer Shay scoffed, both amused and irritated with the short troll trying to talk his way out of getting in trouble. She's dealt with many stupid teens in college, has been called to too many sights like the one tonight where one of the light weights couldn't handle their shit, but if there was one thing she hated most about it all was the arrogant teens. “Listen close, Hun. I'm not here to just clean up your messes and swipe it all under the rug. You just openly confessed to supplying drugs on school grounds. Somebody has to be blamed tonight, and it seems like all fingers are pointing at you.”

Harry stayed lingering in the back, keeping an eye on Hank as the paramedics worked on him and tried getting him coherent enough to answer their questions. “He won't wake up. My best guess is he overdosed on Ecstasy. Probably got one that was cut with something different than he was used to,” Harry said, forcing himself to keep from telling them how to do their job and what to give Hank to help keep him stable until they were able to get him to the hospital.

The male paramedic with short brown hair just glanced up at Harry before he mumbled something to the other man and they both worked to get Hank on the stretcher. “You're fucking welcome,” he yelled after them when they began to walk away, middle finger lifting to salute him.

The drugs having been pushed out of his system from the adrenaline, Harry spun on his heels and forgot about the Hank situation just as quickly as he'd focused on it. “He's a stupid kid, Lenna. Didn't mean any harm with what he said,” Harry mumbled to the cop, honestly not knowing why he was coming to Louis’ defence.

Touching the small of Lenna’s back, he leaned in and angled his head so his mouth was brushing her ear. “Say the kid got a hold of the wrong drugs and took too many in his attempt to fit in. It's believable. He won't remember shit, and I'll make sure Anne and Des don't have you kicked off the force for harassing their son on his first night of college.” Stepping back quickly, he raised both hands as if saying he surrendered and shrugged. “Your decision. I already know who they'll believe.”

When the woman’s stance wavered, he knew he'd won. Another perk from his parents was, regardless of what he did, he almost always got away with it. Unless it was like the fire he started at his middle school in London, and then the evidence had been too much to get rid of. His sentence had, however, dropped down from six months in juvie to only two weeks.

But Leann wouldn't push anything. She was a suck up, wouldn't intentionally displesse the elder Styles especially when it put her job in danger. Besides, her and Harry had history. If he ever went down because of her, or she did something he found himself not liking, she would go down too. He had enough shit on her to last himself a lifetime, or at least get him out of any hole he finds himself in.

Louis and Cole were having a silent conversation with their eyes when the cop decided to smart talk to him. Tearing blue eyes away from other blue eyes, he matched the woman’s scoff and stepped up to her, matching her height with his, though she was maybe an inch or two taller due to the boots she was wearing. “I confessed to nothing,  _hon._ I said I got them, meaning I grabbed them for Ed with intention to bring them to him. No money was going to be exchanged.”  _Dumb bitch_. Louis mumbled under his breath.

Though he was surprised Harry actually stuck up for him, both of them being strangers at the moment. Eyeing the green eyed man, he turned up nose and walked back over to Cole to whisper something in the brunette’s ear. There was no reason for Louis to remain here and it was ass o clock in the morning, his eyes were burning and he was slowly sobering up from this impromptu meeting and his body was in dire need of sleep so he could wake and bake whenever he rolled out of bed, though he was pretty sure he’d be sleeping close to Zayn tonight ot make sure the man actually woke up.

Rich kids and their connections made Louis roll his eyes even harder. He was considered a rich kid, too, his parents though, chose to act from behind the scenes. They weren’t made for the spot light and rarely had their name in the newspapers for anything.

“So, I’m going back to my dorm with Cole here.” Louis pointed at the new friend and held a hand out for him to grab. “And I suggest you get your happy ass to bed, too, Edward,” Louis growled at the red head.

At least Ed managed to look ashamed, his drunkeness also wearing off. He cleared his throat and scurried past the officer and them up the steps to the senior building and to his dorm. The only evidence he had been there was an empty baggie laying at his feet. Stepping from foot to foot, Louis pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up while swinging Cole around to face their building.

“Shall we go to bed, darling? I think I hear it calling for us.” Louis smiled toothily at the brunette as he started walking in the direction of the freshman dorm, smacking Zayn upside the head on the way and whistling for the man to follow them.

Zayn woke up with a snap, sweating hard despite the cool night. Blinking owlishly at the cop and Harry and Louis and Cole, he got up from the chair and took a few steps to puke into the grass.

Green eyes followed Louis’ movements, Harry trying to picture the small kid he'd once been so close to they could just glance at each other and automatically know one another's thoughts. He couldn't make the connections, though, and was starting to wonder what the fuck had happened to him when a hand was brushing the back of his, snapping him from his thoughts. “Come on, H. Fuck tonight.” It was Liam, gaze much steadier now as he eyed the cuts on the back of Harry's hand, hissing low under his breath.

“This isn't over, Harry. I'll be back.” Leann said as she passed him, scowl in place. “Come on boys, round it up. Kid got too rambunctious with his drugs and overdosed. We'll question him at the hospital tomorrow. As for the rest of you, get home and wash up before I decide to haul you all to jail for public intoxication  _and_ underage drinking,” she looked pointedly at Louis, then Zayn who was hunched over on the ground still puking, then up at Harry. “Now.”

Harry waved at her, smiling toothly with a hint of smugness because yet again he won. Most of the kids around them were all whispering about him, no doubt thinking he was some rich punk who could weasel his way out of everything which was partially true. He could get out of shit, but by himself. He didn't need mommy or daddy or their money. Fuck. He was far from rich. He just had the right connections with the right people, and sometimes just threw his parents name out to add effects and more advantages.

Throwing an arm over Liam’s shoulder, Harry leaned in and whispered, “Tomlinson isn't much different from his dad. Remind me tomorrow, when we're sober, about the bullet I dodged when his dad decided to be a rat bitch and move them across the world,” before he glanced over in Louis’ direction and winked.

He could already tell what kind of person Louis was just by their scarce encounters, and he knew for a fact he would have ended up killing him before he even hit puberty if he'd stayed around. He was one of those snobby, rich bitches that belonged on the cheerleading team with a bright pink slug bug to match his glittery soul.  _Fuck. Gag._

A million and one thoughts were running through Louis’ head, but he didn’t bother to turn and speak them. He calmly kept walking forward to the dorm and up the steps, laughing as Cole tripped over the last step and almost took him down with him. Peering behind him, not toward where he’d just come from, but at the friend staggering down the walk and threatening to collapse onto the pavement, as both men rushed down to grab Zayn around the waist and guide him up the steps to the dorm.

“You are so lucky you’re tiny and light, Zayn.” Louis whispered, giving the man a kiss on the forehead. He adored the friends he had, Ed and Zayn were all he had. He chanced a look back at Harry and Liam, sneering when he saw the wink from the cocky curly haired male and slammed the door closed, startling the DA who’d been sleeping face down on the desktop. “Some help you are. What if a murdered had snuck in and was running amok while you had a lie down?”

Zayn blinked at Louis as did Cole when his British accent started to slip through. Louis coughed and licked over his lips in a “what do you do?” kind of expression. Cole gave Zayn a confused look but Zayn only mimicked what Louis had done.

“So we’re all sleeping in my room tonight. You’re lucky I pulled some strings and got a queen sized bed, room for us all.” The trio headed up the stairs to the second floor. Zayn and Louis patting their pockets for keys, both wearing alarmed looks of panic but Louis managed to find his keys first and shove them into the lock, “Shit. We need to get those clap alarms for these, ya know? Then we won’t lose them.”

“Or put them around our neck on a chain like our mothers used to do, remember? You were so bad at losing the key that after like the fiftieth copy your mother made, she used one of her gold chains as a key ring. You turned bright red when you showed up at school that day with the necklace on like a girl.” Zayn laughed, though he wasn’t making fun of Louis. While the man had been embarrassed about it in his younger years, Louis had grown to kind of embrace his feminine side. Thank god Zayn was the only one who knew.

Liam and Harry hung back for a second, both taking calming breaths to allow their hearts to settle at a normal beat and their brains to stop racing with a million jumbled thoughts. Pulling Liam down onto the grass with him, Harry was only reminded of the vomit surrounding him when he landed close to a pile, the smell instantly making him gag. Scrambling, he threw himself over Liam and thanked the gods when he found the clean, dry side of the lawn.

Digging his nose into his friends arm, he inhaled the stale yet fresh smell of laundry soap mixed with bonfire smoke and booze that clung to his clothes. “What happened to the mutt you were with earlier?” Harry finally asked when silence stretched between them, only the sound of their steady breathing to be heard. “By the way, I'm billing you for my rabies shot. Surprised the rabid bitch didn't bit me.”

Liam huffed out a soft laugh and closed his eyes, head tilting towards Harry so his chin rested lightly on top of his curl covered head. “I left her on the ground. She passed out in my lap, and I wasn't looking to bring her to my room.”

“So you left the poor girl alone outside?” Harry asked, head popping up to peer past Liam. He squinted his eyes and just beyond the pit, he seen the chick lying in a lump on the ground with chairs surrounding her, making it so she couldn't roll into the fire. “What a gentleman you are,” Harry snorted, returning to his place. His body was starting to come unnumb, the flood of emotions nearly overwhelming if it wasn't for the chilly air and sore body it had to compete with.

Today had been eventful, with more people from his past coming back to haunt him then he'd liked, but he also learned that partying was definitely not his thing anymore. At least not with the dumbasses at this college. If he was looking to get fucked up, he'd tuck his tail between his legs and scamper back home where the booze never stopped coming, nobody overdosed, and the stories never ended. His family would welcome him with open arms, and there he wouldn't be the scary, asshole outcast with the loud bike and tattoos. He'd just be Froggy, the same lanky kid who'd got his nickname from a small kid he once called his best friend, the same one he had given the nickname Bunny to after they spent one long day running, or in Louis’ case, hopping through a field. 


	2. Chapter 2

The morning following the fire was just like any other uneventful Tuesday, starting off ordinary and going literally nowhere. Harry spent most of the time locked in his room, nursing his hand and ass while just staring at a blank wall, peeking outside his balcony doors, or scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He had made amends with Anne, and promised to accept everything she bought him on Friday at the dinner that yes, he definitely had to attend.

He didn't speak to Liam, or really even answer his phone. He just stayed to himself in the silent “apartment” never once wondering how Hank was doing, but if he would be transferring out of school, leaving Harry this entire place to himself, or allowing Liam a chance to move in if they somehow convinced the Dean.

The next morning, however, greeted Harry with his alarm clock going of at six in the morning just as the sun was starting to rise and touch the school with the first soft rays of sun. Stumbling from his room bare ass naked, Harry looked at his butt in his reflection and winced when he seen it was black, blue, purple and nearly every other fucking color you could think of. To say he was unhappy about it would be an understatement. He couldn't even sit right. Everytime he tried, it sent pains throughout his ass and made him feel like he'd just taken it  _wayyy_  too hard up the ass.  _Not his style._

He was showered and out of his room by six thirty with plans to stop by the coffee shop to get a coffee, only to realize he'd forgotten his keys in his room by the time he made his way across the campus and to his bike.  _Fuck that walk._ Settling on some cheap ass coffee from a stand nearby, he sipped at the bitter liquid (that tasted like someone literally just threw coffee grounds in a cup, stirred it and served it up) and made his way to his first class.

It wasn't anything important, or maybe it was. Fuck if he could remember. He just showed up, listened half heartedly during the class, did the homework and repeated it every day. He luckily only had three classes today. He split them up, two on Tuesday, two on Wednesday, two on Thursday, none on Friday (family dinner), one on Saturday in the evening and three on Sunday. He was going overboard, maybe, but he needed  _something_  to keep him busy and he might as well be earning the credits.

When he got to class, he found out it was Chemistry.  _Fun_. What sane person would pick a seven o'clock chemistry class? Then again, he never claimed to be sane. Quite the opposite, really. If all his screws were in his head, he'd stop wondering about Louis and he'd  _definitely_ stop being a creep and watching him through the opened balcony doors. Wasn't his fault, though. Time changes nothing, and personal feelings most definitely don’t wipe away history or memories. He couldn't shake the small boy, couldn't erase him from his brain until he actually had a chance to have a decent conversation with him so he could get a reason  _why_  he didn't like him anymore. His subconscious wouldn't accept his aching ass or drug fueled memories. He could have faked even talking to Louis that night, who knows? And Liam was probably already drinking. Maybe it  _wasn't_ Louis who had stepped out of that jeep, but someone equally as small and pissy looking.

_Christ. He just needs answers before he makes any fucked up decisions, or drives himself insane._

It made sense for Cole to stay over again, at least to Louis. He was used to sleeping next to the brunette, finding Cole the perfect bed partner as the man didn’t snore or hog the bed, even if it was big enough for both of them to sprawl out. Only problem was Cole had classes the day after the fire and Louis didn’t until Wednesday, so the whole Monday was spent with Louis drifting in and out of sleep until he had to haul his ass out of bed to shower and head to cheer practice then meet up with Cole for a quick supper and back to his place while Cole did whatever he had to do then ended up at Louis’ again.

Tuesday came and Louis woke up alone. He frowned, not recalling if Cole had said anything about a class that day or not. Pushing away the covers, he stretched arms high above his head, eyes bulging comically out when he got sight of the clock. 7:30 a.m. He never woke up that early unless absolutely necessary, but maybe he’d slept so much the day before, his body decided he was caught up? Shit.

His bare feet padded along the floor as he quickly got dressed, deciding to head down to the courtyard for a quick run then find someplace to have some breakfast. He was craving some oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar. Glancing across the way at Harry’s doors, he chewed on his lip as he shoved earbuds into his ears then jogged from the room down to the lobby of the house and out the door, no place in certain in mind, he just wanted to run.

The class was exactly like the one last year, with nearly the same questions that had a few tweaks to make them seem new and fresh. Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, Harry slipped down lower in his seat, already bored with the class and he was only half an hour deep in it, and had the entire year ahead of him to look forward to. Regretting his decision to actually make something of himself, Harry was honestly debating dropping out of school and just taking over his dad's shop when the time came, and his… Other businesses, when his name was called out.

“Mr. Styles. Am I boring you?” Professor Jenkins asked, his curved nose rising in the air so he could peer at Harry who was sitting in the middle of the labroom, seat next to him empty and his feet propped on an empty chair in front of him.

“Honest answer? Yeah, you are. Do the teachers at this school just pass notes, teaching each grade the same thing over and over again? I've learned  _all_  about electrochemistry.” Harry didn't bother looking up from his black table top, fingers tracing over the canon somebody had carved into it, revealing the light brown wood beneath it. He'd come to school to learn, not be taught repeated lessons. He chose  _harder_  classes so he didn't have to  _listen_  to his thoughts.

“Please then, Mr. Styles. Explain to us what  _your_ definition of electrochemistry is. I'm sure it's nothing short of  _wrong._ ” Yet another teacher who labeled his students, and already has picked who would succeed and who would fail based on appearances. Harry loved it, honestly. Loved watching as the teacher was proved wrong, and a complete asshole all in one go.

“Sure,” clearing his throat, Harry slid up in his seat to perfect his posture before he grinned and glanced around the room. “Electrochemistry primarily is concerned with oxidation-reduction reactions or redox reactions. These reactions produce ions and may be harnessed to produce electrodes and batteries. Electrochemistry is used to predict whether or not a reaction will occur and in which direction electrons will flow.”

Silence stretched around them, a student coughing awkwardly as he shifted in his seat. The professor was just blank face, a bright red heat creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks a lovely shade of  _fuck up._  “Why I'm learning about  _batteries_  four years in a row is beyond me, but please, professor, continue on with your lesson. I won't interrupt again.”

“Yes, well, pay attention Mr. Styles.” Jenkins said, quickly turning back to the board to continue his lesson. Harry was a part of a stereotype though, and everybody thought he was that hard asshole who didn't give a fuck about school. He wanted to be different, wanted to prove everyone wrong while still being that hard asshole who didn't give a fuck about anything else.

Panting, Louis stopped in front of one of the buildings. Peering at the nameplate above the door, he sneered at the word science. Required, but boring as hell. He wasn't like Harry, he truly hated the subject and zoned out. But something told him to climb the steps and walk in. Instantly welcoming the air conditioner on his sweat body, he took a deep breath and let his eyes close then opened them and continued to walk. Something pulled him to a full classroom as he peered through a window, instantly spotting Cole and waving then he stopped when a pair of green eyes looked up.

“Fuck. If I'm interacting with him again,” Shooting a glare at Harry then once again waving at Cole who had finally looked up and seen Louis standing there. He was so adorably unobservant.

Louis peered at the instructor who seemed to be speaking in Harry's direction, as he saw the curly ones lips move in reply. Teacher’s pet. Figured. He wondered what Harry was majoring in. Watching the room for a couple more minutes then he pushed away to wander farther down the hallway, pressing nose to a random classroom and seeing the familiar face of his best friend. Was he psychic or what? Quietly opening the door, he whispered Zayn a couple times earning the attention of everyone within earshot but not the person he wanted.

“Shh!” A kid turned around and glared at Louis, the noise attracting the teacher’s attention.

“Can I help you young man?” The teacher asked, pulling glasses off and resting arms on his portly belly.

Louis was never a quick thinker so he spouted out the first thing to come to mind, “There's a troll in the bathroom and only Zayn Malik can help with it!”

A few titters from the class as the teacher looked none too amused. “Look, Harry Potter. Get lost and back to your own classroom before I call the dean.”

Harry hadn't noticed Louis, not that he would have wanted to. The class continued on, the teacher droning on with the same old lecture that Harry had commented his flaws in, though his eyes kept on finding the curly haired lad like he expected another interruption. When the class was finally over, nearly an hour later, Harry was the first to stand, stomach grumbling now that his sleepiness had wore off.

“Mr. Styles, can you wait back a few minutes?” Professor Jenkins asked, catching everyone's attention. Heads turn to look at Harry, a few people snickering and mumbling unintelligible nonsense under their breath as they hurry and scurried out the door and towards their freedom. 

“I do not appreciate you embarrassing me in front if my entire class on the first day, Harry.” The old man began once the room was empty aside from them. “Your other professors may have been okay having you in their class, but I will not tolerate you acting out and being the class clown. If we have another day like today, I will kick you out of my class and you can kiss your medical degree goodbye. Do I make myself clear?”

Harry rolled his eyes but nodded, refusing to say anything that could put his schooling in jeopardy. That was, until Jenkins smirked. A cocky man ended up a dead man. “If you stopped spouting off shit we've all already learned, I wouldn't have a problem with you or your teaching methods. But how am I supposed to  _learn_ anything when you serve no purpose in furthering my academic knowledge?”

“You're not supposed to be okay with it. You come here to learn, regardless of what I teach. If I were to please every student that stumbles through my door, then I would never have a class with a set lesson plan, and none of you would succeed in anything. I don't make the rules, Styles, and I certainly don't choose what I teach. You have a problem, take it to the Dean or keep it to yourself, but I want all drama kept outside of my classroom.” Jenkins was standing now, hands braced on his desk as he leaned over it to appear more intimidating than his soft eyes allowed.

Laughing, Harry scooped up his notebook and pencil that had stayed closed during the entire lesson today, and walked down the few steps to reach Jenkin’s desk. “You call yourself a professor, yet you teach garbage. Based on the track marks running up your arms, I suspect you are unhappy with your job and you're trying to find a release I don't think you'll ever get. I bet you'll be dead by the end of the year, but in the meantime, I expect a new and improved lesson plan from you, otherwise the Dean will hear about your dirty little addiction.” Grabbing a gumball out of the bowl on the man's desk, Harry popped the blue thing into his mouth and chomped down, eyes crinkling in amusement when he seen the man scramble to cover up his arms as his mouth opened and closed, mirroring a fish out of water.

“I don't want to ruin your life, but I will.” leaning down with his head cocked to read the cursive name at the bottom of a paper, Harry grinned and smacked his gum. “It was a pleasure speaking to you, Shay. And I'm sorry you were the unlucky soul who got me in your class, but hopefully next time you'll learn not to fuck with the wrong student. Have a nice day.”

And with that, Harry was walking out of the classroom and leaving behind a wide eyed, open mouthed idiot who didn't yet understand who he had just fucked with. Blowing a bubble as he pushed through the doors leading to outside, Harry was stopped by a red headed man running past him with his head bowed, too ashamed or terrified to look up at Harry. Whatever the reason, Harry stuck a foot out to trip him, then left.

He went to the cafe for breakfast, the track up to his dorm to get his keys nearly killing but he somehow made it, and ran into Liam on the way. They ended up deciding to take the puppy eyed males car, saving Liam’s dignity and Harry gas.

After their breakfast that had stretched to a little under two hours, Harry went back to campus to attend his English class, leaving Liam to deal with the parking ticket he'd gotten while they were eating. “Lucky they didn't tow your car!” Harry called over his shoulders, waving fingers at Liam with a grin.

English class was, well, English class. It was boring as fuck, predictable, but at least had new lessons and a pretty hot teacher who had bright blue eyes, a bubble butt, and soft voice.  _Mr. Clarence._ Fuck, if he had teachers like this in Jr. High, he would have actually  _made_  an effort to go to class.

Nearly two hours later, with a new number saved in his phone for… Well, academic purposes (yeah,sure) Harry was finally breaking through the double doors to the English building, inhaling deeply, greedily taking in the fresh air that didn't stink of old books, dust, and fifty different students bo. Pausing halfway down the steps when he seen, just beyond the english building on the giant field, was a pyramid of cheerleaders dressed in their skimpy little uniforms.

He didn't like cheerleaders, and certainly didn't like what they had hiding up their skirt, but even he couldn't deny the beautiful magic that breasts were. Besides, an ass was an ass, and he happened the  _like_  asses.

He didn't have any more classes for the day, so that left plenty of time for him to go and peek at the cheerleaders before he went and found something to silence his (yet again) rumbling belly. He just hoped none of the bitchy, snot nosed, stuck up barbies noticed him.

Louis had gone back to his dorm and had another nap. He probably should have been hyping himself up for classes that were staring tomorrow, but Louis was tired. Plus, there was cheer practice, he needed all his energy for that. Right before he fell asleep, Louis double checked his mini fridge to make sure it’d been stocked, even though he’d done it himself right after haunting the science building, he still needed to make sure. Darting eyes around, he took a swallow of his ill-gotten vodka then twisted the cap back on and laid down to sleep.

The blaring noise that was his alarm woke him up what felt like ten minutes later, when in reality it was two hours later. Cursing, he picked up his phone to silence it when he noticed the time. Had he really set the alarm for the wrong time? Shit! Jumping to his feet, he threw on his uniform, thankful that the shirt was short sleeved, he couldn’t deal with long sleeved in the humidity that was the end of summer, then popped a couple tabs of X and was out the door rushing to the courtyard to join his team mates.

“Sorry, sorry. Mixed up the time and overslept.” Louis set his bag down beside the others and turned to face the captain. She was a pretty mocha skinned girl with a nose ring and a tendency to chew her gum like a cow chewing its cud. Smiling prettily at Alayna, he pulled the small body to him and hugged her tight, “Aly. You love me. Don’t lie.”

Louis had had the pleasure of meeting the whole squad last year in his senior year of high school. They’d come to visit their alma mater and sit in on a practice like the old days. Louis, the social butterfly that he is, fit perfectly in with the college kids and it seemed an epic friendship had started, except the college kids considered Louis their child and treated him as such. Just because he was a young pup, his birthday being in December making him behind everyone in not just age but stature - another reason for them to fawn over him, he hated being called short and tiny.

“Louis, you gotta be on time!” Alayna tried to stern face Louis but it ended up in a huge grin. “Come on, we’re doing the pyramid today and guess who gets to be on top?”

 _Aw fuck. Probably not a good day to mention he was scared of heights? That’s why he was always a base back at high school._ Louis shuddered and looked at the girls and guys who were already forming the pyramid having gotten their assignments when the practice started. Gulping, he looked at the girl then at everyone then back at Alayna.

“I.. okay fine.” Walking around the group to the back, he swallowed and started climbing the people, fighting the urge to look down the higher he got. When he couldn’t go any higher, he blinked and happened to look down then. “Oh.. shit.. This is high, this is very high. I’m going to puke!”

Panicking now, Louis moved his foot, accidentally jabbing the person below him, causing their body to shake and Louis to grab onto their shirt for balance. He gave them a dirty look then moved his foot back the way it was, not realizing how close he was to the edge and slipped. It must’ve been comical seeing the man sliding down the mountain of cheerleaders only to grab onto someone’s shoulder before hitting the ground. The fabric of the person’s tee shirt gave way and Louis none too gently crashed to the grass and onto his arm.

Harry had made it to his place leaning against the metal bleachers just in time to watch as the top cheerleader lost her balance and fell, bringing the entire pyramid down with her. If he wasn't busy laughing his ass off, he would be slightly worried and pissed that he didn't have his phone out to record that train wreck. “Can you do that again, please? That was  _truly_  beautiful.” Harry managed between his laughing fit, hand clenching the material of his shirt over his belly so he could press the fist against his stomach in hopes to stop the aching.  _Didn't help_.

Wiping away the tears from his eyes, Harry grinned up at the darker skinned cheerleader who stood glaring at him, pure fury in his eyes. “Calm down, Barbie. I'm just appreciating the art you're making.”  _He so wasn't, but he also didn't need nail marks down his cheek to match the nasty ones down the back of his hand._

“You're such a creep, Harry! What did I tell you last year? Leave us alone!” The chick screamed, clearly remembering him when he hadn't the slightest idea who the fuck she was. He didn't even remember stalking the cheerleaders last year.

“Keep the claws in, love. I'm not looking for a fight.” Flashing her yet another grin, Harry pushed up off the wall and simply waved at the mountain of groaning people in front of him. “I'm going to go check on them, yeah?” She must have been desperate, or knew what Harry was majoring in, because she nodded her head once and followed close behind Harry. A little too close for comfort, if you asked him.

“Alright, quit your bitching. Everyone that wasn't on the last two levels, shut the fuck up and move.” It wasn't until he seen those striking blue eyes amongst the heap of bodies that he realized who the top cheerleader had been… _oh fuck, he laughed at Louis._

He didn't know if it was a repressed instinct from when they were kids and Harry was always rushing to Louis’ side to nurse his cuts and bruises, but he went straight to Louis first, a hand gripping to very feminine feeling upper arm to drag him up and out of the pile of bodies. “May I?” He asked, hesitating with his hand hovering over the arm Louis had cradled to his chest. He hadn't looked at him yet, refused to. If he could, he would erase all of the memories he had with the boy if only to get rid of the awkwardness that was radiating from his body.  _Why couldn't they be strangers?_

Was that his arm cracking or was he imagining things? Louis tried to straighten it out, only to be met with white hot pain in his arm and a tight stomach. Gasping, he supported his arm with his other hand, whimpering. Fuck. A broken arm on the first day of cheerleading practice in college. Way to go, Louis. Way to screw it up for yourself. Eyeing his arm, he groaned and looked at Alayna then when the new voice broke through the pandemonium and he felt himself being yanked up.

“Hey, hey, hey! Hands off the goods!” Louis squeaked when he was sure he’d felt a hand cross his ass. Narrowing eyes when he recognized the person as Harry, his mind still wouldn’t let him in. Why the hell did Harry look so fucking familiar? Jerking back when Harry went to touch him, he growled again and shook his head. He was fine. His arm was fine!

Jumping to his feet, he went to put hands on his hips when his sore arm gave him away again, this time making his knees buckle as he fell to them and dry heaved. Fuck this pain. Fuck bones. Fuck this grass. Fuck everything!

“Shoot me, just shoot me and put me out of my misery. I broke a limb, don’t they shoot horses when they break a leg? Consider me fucking Mr. Ed!” Louis wailed. He was a big baby when sick or in pain, his threshold of pain was very low. Sucking in air when the pain subsided to where he could open his eyes, he fought the urge to scream really loudly, that would cause even more of a commotion and a larger group to form.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ed and Zayn walking by, chattering away happily. They were ignoring their surroundings, too deep in the conversation, but Louis was going to make sure they didn’t walk on by.

“HEY ASSNUTS, GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE NOW.” Louis, despite not wanting to scream earlier did, voice carrying to the two men as they froze mid step, as did several other students innocently walking by the courtyard.

Harry rolled his eyes. Apparently when Louis moved, he'd grown to be a little bitch who couldn't even handle a little bump. “Quit screaming. You're not being put down and your arm isn't broken. You just dislocated it.” Harry cut in, side eyeing the two males who had been called over. He vaguely remembered the darker skinned one, but the memories were vague and far away. Actually, he thinks he kicked his ass when he found out Louis had befriended him. Harry had been a very, very protective kid and he thought he'd lose Louis to him. Turns out, he'd end up losing Louis to the it own parents.

“I can pop it back in place, if you'd let me. The longer you wait, the more it'll swell and the more painful it would be.” Harry said, and he didn't even know if he was imagining it or not but when Louis looked up at him, he didn't see any recognition in his blue eyes. Could time really erase memories? Even of a person who had spent every single day growing up with him?

It crushed Harry for a second, to realize the person he once worshiped didn't even recognize him. He was too lost in his rich, preppy world to bother remembering the kid who'd held and comforted him after he'd seen his father beating the shit out of someone in Des’s garage. Harry had kept Louis away from it all after that night, sheltered him from the lives their parents lived to protect his innocence. He'd taken Louis all over London, made up fake games and spent all of his allowance every Tuesday night so he could take Louis to the movies, because he knew those nights were the worst and Des and Austin would bring a lot of activity to the mechanic shop to figure out when the new shipment of drugs was coming in, and if they were going to branch off to other suppliers to get even more goodies.

But all those memories weren't there for Louis. Harry was more or less a complete stranger to him, just a man with tattoos, curly hair and a bike who was crude and mean looking. The ink on his skin held nothing for Louis, even if he'd been the master artist behind half of Harry’s tattoos, and the inspiration for others. Their story had more or less been mapped out on his skin, and it seemed as if he was the only one that could read it now.

“You don't remember me, do you?” Harry asked in a soft voice, eyebrows furrowed. He never thought he'd be asking Louis that question. Then again, he never thought he'd ever see the boy again.

It was weird that the green eyed guy kept staring at him and asking those weird questions. Louis raised an eyebrow at him and pulled away to run over to Zayn and Ed. Leaning in, he whispered something to Zayn, who in turn whispered something back. He didn’t see the look Zayn gave Harry, the darker skinned one recognizing Harry, but saying nothing to help Louis remember him. He liked having Louis to himself, well, Ed was an exception, but he was the only one intended to be Louis’ best friend.

Rolling his shoulders, Louis whimpered when it only caused pain in his arm again. Turning head to look at Harry, he pointed at him then said something low to Zayn. Zayn listened then shook his head and jerked it in the direction of the parking lot. Louis shook his head and pointed at Harry again, but Zayn persisted and actually reached out to grab Louis by the shirt sleeve and yank him to the car.

“Stop it, Zee. If I can get quick relief I’m going to. I don’t want to sit in a waiting room for hours upon end only to be seen for five minutes by some doctor and get stuck with a high bill.” Louis caught a look Zayn was throwing Harry, it wasn’t a nice look. Raising an eyebrow again, he sighed and hook his head. “Stop it.”

Walking over to Harry, he held out his arm then motioned for Ed to come over since Zayn was sulking nearby, refusing to look at the group. The girl he’d been flirting with the other night at the bonfire had noticed him and was sauntering over, ponytail bobbing with each step she took.

“Pop it in place for me, please?” Louis asked, licking over his lips, tongue ring appearing momentarily then disappearing again inside his mouth as he clicked it against straight white teeth. He grabbed Ed by the arm and squeezed tight, causing the red-haired one to yelp in pain, digging foot into Louis’ shoe. “Damnit. You’re not supposed to cause me anymore pain, Edward!”

When he'd gotten no answer, Harry knew that everything they had was gone. And as long as the dark eyed mutt was in the picture, there was no hope in getting it back. He didn't miss the looks or the glares, had even offered a few in return, but he couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He used to hope as a teen that Louis would return, and they would once again be the inseparable idiots that nobody could picture apart. But that wasn't a possibility. They would never be who they used to be.

When Louis walked over, Harry was finally unthawing from the shock, preparing himself to leave so he didn't end up blubbering like some girl with a hopeless crush. But he couldn't leave now, couldn't look hurt or affected by the cold shoulder Louis was giving him. So he sucked up his emotions, buried the memories and forced his body to relax, when all it wanted to do was crumple to the ground and give into the pain.

Removing his shirt, thankful he hadn't wore his jacket, Harry ignored all the eyes on his torso. Yes, he had abs. And yes, he had a giant ass moth on his stomach. “Bite down on this,” he instructed Louis once he'd rolled the material tightly, making it look like a long, black tampon. When he seen the way Louis’ nose wrinkled in disgust, making alarms go off in Harry's head as memories threatened to resurface, he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Calm down, Princess. It's clean. And I would suggest not being picky, either. You either bite down on this, or chance cracking your teeth.”

Harry had popped many arms back into place in his short twenty one years of life. He's done stitches, helped splinter broken bones, watched as bullets were dug out of asses and other non fatal places, and had even once snapped a two bones back in place when Jane had got it ran over by a car. All in all, what he was doing today would be easier than taming his fucking hair.

Princess. Louis rolled his eyes again, fighting the urge to bop the guy upside the head, but he was helping him so he’d refrain from anything scathing remarks or smacks. Shifting eyes to meet Ed’s then he looked at Zayn, who was still refusing to meet his eye, focusing only on the cute blonde now attached to his hip and whispering into his ear. Lifting chin up, a blaze of anger flashing momentarily in those bright blues, he put the tee shirt in his mouth then turned to look at Ed, not wanting to see when this happened, even though his body was anticipating it and he could feel his back stiffening.

When it actually happened, Louis screamed into the fabric that was Harry’s shirt. The nausea had returned and he waited until Harry let go of his arm to vomit on the grass beside their feet, thankfully not backsplashing any of their shoes or clothing. Breathing through his nose, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, having dropped the clothing onto the ground and away from the mess. Christ, he hated the taste of vomit.

The noise had attracted more people. Louis looked up to see people had paused on their way to and from classes to just stare. He sniffled and dug into his pocket for a kleenex or something, coming up empty as his cheer pants were pretty much a new item of clothing for him, never worn before. Looking at Harry then at the people, he gave a slight huff and picked up his bottle of water to swish some around his mouth and spat it beside the vomit in the grass, then repeating it a couple more times.

Alayna, always one to take charge, pushed her way in front of Louis. Holding up the bullhorn, she pressed the button and spoke into it, voice amplified, “ _Alright folks. Keep moving, nothing to see here. Just pass by and go do what you need to do. We are not animals at the zoo!”_ She screamed at a few lookie lous who were completely ignoring Alayna’s direction and staring at Harry and Louis. “Did I stutter, folks? Get moving!” Her voice was loud without the assistance and the couple jumped, then started slowly walking away, stealing glances back at the cheerleaders.

While this whole palooza was going on, the other cheerleaders had quietly stood in the background, some not moving from their place in the pyramid. It wasn’t like falls weren’t a rarity, just last year there’d been several broken bones and a couple concussions while trying a new routine. They’d failed it that day, but with practice and a slightly less injuries, managed to nail it. Though the cheerleaders were slightly nervous about trying anything new.

Harry hadn't warned him about the pain, or the fact that he'd most likely vomit after. He'd just gripped his arm, jerked it forward, up, and then back down until he felt, and heard, a loud pop followed by Louis letting out a blood curdling scream. Quickly stepping back, Harry turned his face away and tried humming quietly to keep himself from listening as the vomit splattered all over the grass.

When all was said and down, Harry reached down to pick his shirt back up that had miraculously come away with no harm aside from a wet patch from Louis’ saliva. He slung it over his shoulder, stepped around Louis and clapped his hands once. “That was fun and all, but I'm going to go now. Have fun bossing around your freak show. I expect to see another tumbling pyramid soon. Don't disappoint me, Alpha bitch.” Saluting the group, Harry flipped Zayn off as he passed him and paused for a second.

“Be careful, Zaynie boy. I'm not a little boy anymore. My aim has gotten better, and my punches a lot harder. Watch your back,” smiling sweetly, showing his teeth and all, Harry ruffled Zayn’s hair and snorted at the low growl the tiny one emitted.  _Oh, scary._

If he's learned anything, it's how to pretend. How to hold yourself when you wanted to fall apart, and how to act when people expected something from you. He was, or had been, a daddy pleaser. Emotions were for the weak people, the ones that belonged on the bottom of the human pyramid and deserved nothing but misery. And he didn't want that, did he?

Yet when he reached the dorm room that wasn't his own, he still walked into it and collapsed on the bed that already had an occupant. Face down in the mattress, he flung his arm over the muscly chest and slightly booty bumped the male over. “He doesn't remember me anymore, Li.” Harry whispered, somehow keeping his voice level and calm when his insides were bursting into flames, setting his tiny heart into an fast paced rhythm so it could try and outrun the flames.

For once, Louis was quiet. The dull throb of his aching arm reminding him he was still alive and hadn't died from falling from the pyramid. Wiggling nose like a bunny, he brought good hand up to swipe his fringe out of his face, big blue eyes surveying the area.

His bark was bigger than his bite. Zayn chose that moment to reach down and swing Louis’ bag over his shoulder. “I'm taking Louis to his room to rest. You can't expect him to stay after that,” He lightly touched Louis’ arm making the small one yowl and slap at the man. “OK, OK, sorry!”

The ginger haired one had also stayed quiet, but he was watching Harry walk away with a big grin on his face as he discreetly pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to someone.

When the trio was back at Louis’ dorm, he hopped for the bed, almost tripping over his pile of clothes on the floor as he sank down into the bed, welcoming the warmth. Hearing the two men leaving the room, he rolled onto his side to wriggle phone from his pocket and open Facebook to search for Harry Styles, making sure he had the right one. Creeping on Harry’s pics, he lifted head to study a picture. Why the hell did he look so familiar?!

Liam didn't question who he was talking about, or why Harry was shirtless. He just grabbed the shirt that had wound around his friends shoulder and tossed it to the ground before he rolled onto his side and brought a hand to lightly scratch at Harry's back. “It's been eight years, mate. He was just ten. You can't expect him to remember everything.” Liam whispered, but he can't not admit that it was a little strange the male had forgotten about Harry completely. He had never met him, not that he'd wanted to, but Harry told him all about Louis and their adventures. Had went into detail about how he'd kicked Zayn’s ass and why. Liam had, from the first two months in their friendship, realized his now best mate was stupidly in love with a kid he hadn't seen for two years. So he made it his mission to help Harry forget him.

“I know, Li. I know. But… I don't know. I guess I just thought he'd at least have some recollection of me. But I'm just a fucking stranger to him. Fuck, even Zayn remembers me and that fucktard hadn't hung around for long.” burying his face in the matress, Harry let out a low scream before he turned his face and looked up at Liam, eyes partially open with his lips parted and eyebrows furrowed. “Do you think he remembers me, but just doesn't want to? Does he hate me for what Des did to his dad?”

Harry felt as Liam’s fingers paused when they reached the place between his shoulders, the digits fidgeting slightly over that place as Harry's entire body went stiff and rigid, tense with hatred. “I mean, the pip squeak was a good actor but-- fuck, Li. Fuck him,” Liam remained quiet, allowing his friend to talk himself into hating Louis. He didn't have anything against the shorter man, just didn't want to see as Harry fell again without anyone there to catch him, leaving Liam there to pick up all the pieces all over again as he silently hoped the wind didn't pick up speed and blown Harry away.

It had been hard, so fucking hard, but Liam helped Harry through his crush, talked him off the ledge of the figurative building, replaced the bottles of alcohol with pens and the drugs with books. He figured that if Harry's brain was distracted, and he had a set goal in life, he wouldn't go back on his bender, become reckless, and ruin his life over some  _kid_  he'd once known.

“I vote we go out and drink tonight, at an actual bar away from all these… These… Morons (thanks to help from Harry, who had suggested the word.) I still got my fake ID, so we won't have to worry about getting kicked out on our asses like the first time we had when moving to America.” Liam laughed at the memory, tried remembering what Harry had slurred at the men throwing them out, but all he could recall was the fist fight that had ensued and ended with them in the back of a police car.  _Ah, fun times._

Harry had already been talked into it as soon as he heard the word bar, but he just let Liam continue on down memory lane, letting himself get carried back to the first time he'd been arrested in America, and thanking god he hadn't been in London. His track record there was longer than him. “If you're done reminiscing about how fucked up we are, I'd like to go now.” Harry mumbled, pushing himself up and off of Liam’s bed where he swayed for a second. “Actually, I'm going to go get ready. Ten minutes.”

Even though he was alone, Louis looked around guiltily before clicking on the first photo album, one simply labelled TATTOOS. Humming to himself, he peeked at every photo, a slight tug at his brain. Something was so familiar, but he couldn't put two and two together. When he got to the end of the album, he kept wandering father and farther until he fell asleep.

A loud bang next to his head jerked him awake with a shriek, jarring his bad arm and making him scream louder. Sitting upright, he glared at Zayn and the plastic bag he'd popped.

“Fucking asshole. I'm going to find a rooster and set him in your room so you're rudely woken up, too.” Louis rubbed at his eyes then got up to use the bathroom. “What time is it?”

Zayn looked at his watch to answer just as Louis’ belly growled. He licked over dry lips then gave a smirk. “Almost five thirty. Wanna find some place to eat then wander downtown more? There's a new shop opened i wanna check out,”

“Find a new voodoo book ya want?” louis joked. He knew Zayn was into that such thing, Louis was sort of reading into it, he was a big fan of the supernatural. “I kind of want to find a ghost hunting society. Did you know the college is haunted?”

Zayn should have expected that, Louis having shown an interest in ghosts and such at a young age. He'd encouraged those dreams, but was on Austin's side with squashing anything that might trigger Louis into remembering Harry.

Harry left Liam’s building, ducking head when he passed Louis’, and ran up to his empty dorm. Still no word on Hank, though he can't honestly say he was worried. Heartless, maybe, but he didn't even know the kid. He couldn't make himself care about someone he'd literally just met three days ago, and had spoke to for maybe five minutes.

Ransacking his few belongings, Harry pulled out a black tank top with a green skull on it that was doing the rock and roll finger gesture, as his purple mohawk went in each and every direction. Keeping on his black skinny jeans, Harry pulled the shirt on and tied his messy hair up into a tight bun. He usually didn't try and tame his hair, but he hated having random people at bars pulling at it and he didn't enjoy coming home with all sorts of sticky liquids matting his hair. 

Grabbing his wallet, which he'd reluctantly agreed he'd need, Harry shoved his wad of cash into it, took out his credit cards and set them inside his dresser before he grabbed his leather jacket and tugged it on. He looked like a complete asshole in this outfit, but he looked good. He had a strong chance of bringing someone home tonight.

Locking his door behind him, Harry pulled out his phone and began to twirl his keyring on his finger as he waited for the other person to answer. “Hey, hurry your arse up. I'm ready,” he said, seemingly forgetting about his slight american accent as his british one came out in full force. Thank fucking god. He hated the way he was adopting these people's accents, squashing down the one that showed where he came from, where his heart still was.

They met at the parking lot, Liam’s head already shaking as soon as he seen Harry pull up the seat on his bike and pull out the pretty pink helmet he'd gotten Liam custom made with flowers, butterflies and lots of sparkles. “Come on, ya big baby. Ride bitch, or stay home because I'm not going anywhere in your mommy wagon,” Harry said, eyeing the Volkswagen Passat across the parking lot with clear distaste. He didn't understand  _why_  the fuck Liam got it. It wasn't like he didn't already look like a fucking soccer mom most days.

As Liam and Harry met in the parking lot, Louis had grabbed Zayn’s keys and was rushing ahead deciding he was driving them around. Louis had shorter legs, but he was fast and used his height to his advantage to duck and weave. Sliding to a stop beside the truck, he eyed his Jeep. He was protective of it and parked it in a deserted corner to keep it from door dings or random drunk people leaning against it.

“Come on Zaynie poo! The shops will be closed if you keep walking that slow. You don't need to check your phone for a voicemail from Gigi!” Logan gave a dramatic sigh then turned attention to the ugly car next to Zayn’s. He wasn't sure what kind it was, but it was bulky and just an embarrassment. “Zee, check out the fuglasaurus next to us?”

Zayn finally caught up. He had seen the motorcycle and Harry situated on it. Narrowing eyes, he walked past him and Liam then stopped. Pulling out phone, he texted Austin the whereabouts of Harry, though he knew the elder Tomlinson had men positioned all over San Fran.

“Ugly,” Zayn simply said in reference to the car then added, “Do not try what you did last time. Pretty sure the cops won't be as lenient this time.”

He gave Zayn a grin as he painfully slow pulled from the space and joined the flow of traffic heading away from the college. He looked down for a second to fiddle with the radio then looked up in time to stomp on the brakes when some donkey on a motorcycle went ahead and squeezed in between the truck and SUV ahead of them.

“You fucking fucker dick! Wait your goddamn turn!” Louis held hand down on the horn, the loud bleat turning a few heads as he crept up closely behind the motorcycle, trailing its ass.

(-_-)Harry waved as Zayn passed, flicking Liam’s ear so the pouting male would do the same. But he was a hopeless cause, having no idea what was going on until he followed Harry’s line of sight and seen Zayn. Oh, them again. Trying to keep Harry from staring too long, he took the helmet from his hands and slipped it on with little fight. It was hideous, and made him look like a little girl, but if it meant he got Harry away from Louis he'd wear it. “Let's go.” Liam barked, stepping up to the motorcycle but waiting to climb on until Harry did.

Shaking his head from the questions racing through them, Harry blew out a deep breath and threw his leg over the bike and set down on the seat. “Climb aboard, Sally.”

When Liam was set bitch behind him, both arms shamelessly wrapped around Harry’s waist with the bulky helmet pressed against the older mans upper back, Harry started the bike and revved it a few times before he followed a truck out of the parking lot. “Which b--” Harry began, only to cut off when he had to jerk the bike to the left and swerve when a black bike had almost hit him. Horns honked all around them, the flow of traffic ceasing because of the asshole. Backing up a few inches, Harry drove around the truck he'd been behind and accelerated the gas for a second to catch up to the painfully familiar bike.

“You following me now?” He asked the male with the black bandana wrapped around his head, sunglasses perched on his nose. The light was red, so Harry was forced to put a foot down on the ground to help hold them up so they didn't tip over.

“Not ye, ye muppet. The cheerleadin’ bitch behind ye,” the heavy irish accent responded, head turning to throw a glance over his shoulder at Louis and Zayn. “Yer pops found ou’ abou’ ‘im. Wants me to keep a close eye on ‘im and make sure the rat doesn’ make an appearance.”

Dragging a thumb across his neck, the old Irish man grinned before his face fell and he became serious. “Keep an eye ou’ fer mi boy, ye hear? Fragile lil thing is scared to death. And I swear ta god, Harry. If anybody touches a hair on ‘is head, I'll gut em.”

He must be talking about Niall, the Irish lad he'd had the chance to meet when they were younger and keep in touch with as they grew. The contact ceased when Harry moved to America, but if Bobby was here now, it must mean Niall had finally graduated high school. Bobby was one of his parents oldest  _and_ closest friends, but he'd refused to uproot Niall and take him out of school just to follow the Styles family like a good little bitch. “Will do, Bobby.” Nodding, Harry tried to pretend he hadn't heard that Des had found out about Louis attending the same college as him, and glanced up at the still red light.

“Oi, watch yer self, Muppet. People have been followin’ ye. Don know who yet, but I doubt they're any good.” And with that, Bobby placed two fingers to his forehead, saluted them goodbye, and swerved around the suv in front of them to go left instead or straight.  _Illegal bastard._ Wait, people are following him? What the fuck?

The windows had been down on the truck behind Bobby and Harry. Louis hadn’t been paying attention as he’d been arguing with Zayn about where to grab something to eat before starting their adventure. He would NOT eat at McDonald’s again no matter how much of a cheap skate Zayn was or that he could still fit in the playstructure - so could Louis, but you didn’t see him squeezing himself in it. Rolling eyes at Zee’s whine, he turned the volume up on the radio and turned to face his friend, shouting over the music to be heard.

“Driver picks restaurant, passenger shuts their pie hole!”

“You stole that from  _Supernatural_  and that’s not how it goes. Come on, Lou! McDonalds!” Zayn jutted out lower lip in a pout. “Pleaaaaaaase?”

Louis shook his head firmly, setting both hands on the wheel and keeping an eye out for the two motorcycles in front of him. He recognized Harry on the other. “Chipotle sounds better. And we can get a milkshake later on? Sound good?” He took a hand off the wheel to offer to Zayn, who stared at it for a second then reluctantly shook it.

“Pst Louis, there’s an opening up to the left. This traffic’s at a fucking standstill because everyone else had the same idea. Just put it in four wheel drive and go around, there’s a shortcut.” Zayn was impatient. Louis could tell by the way the darker skinned male was chewing on his nail and shifting on the seat.

Louis flicked on his left blinker signal and peering behind him in the rearview, he shifted it into four wheel then revved his engine, turning the wheel hard as he slipped out from behind the two motorcycles and over the curb to join the lighter line of traffic in the other lane. Perfect. They wouldn’t miss their shopping trip and whatever else Zayn had in store for them.

Just as the truck had moved from behind him, the light turned green and the traffic began to move forward. Pressing the gas, the bike lurched forward and wobbled for a second as Harry tried to steady it, foot ready to catch them if the bike somehow lost balance and tipped. “Which bar?” Harry asked when everything seemed alright and his bike picked up speed.

He tried pushing aside the knowledge that he was being followed like he had been the entire week. Well, it hadn't been a for sure thing, he'd just felt it. Didn't bother him, though. He could handle himself, and if they tried to kill him, whoever they were, Harry would let them. Not without a fight, but if it was his time to die, then so fucking be it. “That one we went to with Justin. With the hot bartender,” Liam said, which narrowed it down quite a bit because there was only one bar they went to with Justin that had an attractive Female bartender. Males were a whole other story, and he'd be guessing for days.

Switching lanes, Harry went based on memory and was honest to god lucky when he pulled into the correct bar, not at all surprised to see it was packed full. Driving around the side of the building, Harry found a secluded parking spot in the back and killed the engine before he stuffed his keys into his pocket and climbed off. “Gimme the helmet, Susie, before I slap your tits and make you ride me.” Winking at his friend, Harry was thankful Liak had become used to all the homosexual jokes he made and didn't read too much into them.

Liam was as straight as straight can be, if you looked past his obsession with Disney movies. No man should  _ever_  have the entire collection of every single Disney movie ever made. And he definitely shouldn't have to buy new copies of his favorite movies every few years because he's worn the others out. “Oh, Styles, willing to be a bottom for me?” Fanning his face, Liam threw the helmet on the seat and gasped in a high pitched, breathy voice. “My hero.” And, he went with the cliche southern accent.

“Fuck off, Payne. My arse will be touched by no man.” Flipping him off with a dimpled grin in place, Harry put the helmet back under the seat and began to walk, leaving Liam to trail behind him. “You better not spaz and get us caught,” Harry growled when the reached the doors, hand gripping the metal bar. Liam usually didn't spaz, but it entirely depended on his mood, and Harry wasn't looking to get turned away before he even had a chance to get a buzz.

On their way to downtown, Zayn was looking around acting funny making Louis stare at him funny, but shrug it off. Maybe he was secretly meeting a girl or someone downtown, Louis was 99.9 percent sure Zayn batted for the other team, the girls were just coverups, and he was going to do everything to prove himself right. When Zayn stiffened up and frantically pulled out his phone to pound away a text message, Louis stomped hard on the brake causing the man to faceplant into the dashboard, phone slipping from his hand and under the seats as he pushed on the gas to move the vehicle again.

“What the fuck man?” Zayn asked as he rubbed at his now sore face now. He was upset at losing his phone and that his face now hurt.

“There was a kitty in the road,” Louis said innocently. When Zayn was once again looking out the window, Louis spied the man’s phone beside his foot and leaned down to grab it. Shifting in the driver’s seat, he brought his leg up to rest on the drink holder on the door and peered down at the phone to read the latest text message that Zayn had been replying to it. It was written completely in another language causing Louis to furrow his eyebrows and push the back button to look at the other texts. Same language.

Glancing up again, he stared straight ahead and let the phone drop onto the floor beside his feet then gave a surprised noise and reached down to grab it and handed it over to Zayn who gave an overager sounding THANKS! And went back to furiously composing the text message.

The hell was going on?!

Reaching their destination was easy, finding a parking spot was not as Louis was forced to park a good three blocks away from the book store. Thank god it was a nice night, humid but with enough breeze to not be so stifling. Locking the truck with the key fob, he tossed the keys at Zayn then shoved hands into the pockets of his jeans, studying the man in front of him.  _Why was he being so weird?_

Meanwhile, on the other side of town Liam and Harry were waiting in the surprisingly short line, the latter of the two tapping his foot impatiently as he checked the clock on the wall every three seconds. “I'll die of old age by the time they reach us,” he complained, eyes darting around the closed off waiting room when he could hear the loud music thumping in a not so distant room, the floors and walls shaking.

He was eager to just get in and drink already, to dance away all his problems and hopefully sweat out all of his memories. He wanted to forget everything for the night, and not have to worry about some idiot overdosing or their dorms catching on fire. Besides, here he was guaranteed to find fresh meat. They would have the awkward next morning, if he didn't kick them out after the deed was done, but he wouldn't have to see their faces around campus. He learned how fucking stupid it was to sleep around at school. You could never get rid of the psycho idiot who read too much into getting his brains fucked out, and insisted there had been sparks.  _Yeah, in his head when those tiny little gears tried sparking to life to generate it's first ever intelligible thought._

Eager to partake himself, Liam was keeping himself distracted by texting the girl from the night of the bonfire. Tip of tongue stuck out as he concentrated on composing the perfect text, only for harry to jab him hard in the side with his sharp elbow, the phone almost slipping from his hand.

“Oy.. calm your ass down. We’ll get our drinks, soon. Who knew it’d be busy on a Tuesday?” Liam peered ahead of them then behind. It was a rather lone line, made up of mostly college students from what he could tell. That’s what they got for making a popular bar in a college town. Looking ahead again, he tilted head to the right then left to crack his neck then pulled out phone when it buzzed with a text. “So, Abigail is coming to drink with us. This okay? I can tell her no..?”  _Not that he won’t pull tonight, the fucker was lucker than Liam was. He hated to admit it._

Thankfully it only took them a few minutes longer and they were at the bar to order. Liam sticking with his beer as he shooed Harry off to find a table with the drinks while he ran off to the bathroom.

Harry liked to think of himself as a simple man, who enjoyed things in life that didn't taste like bitter ass mixed with extremely yeasty bread. Nose wrinkling when he was forced to carry their tray back to the table, and had to smell Liam’s beer the entire walk, Harry situated the drinks so Liam’s was as far away from him as possible. Finding them a booth in the middle of the bar, right off from the dancefloor, Harry slid into his seat and downed his two shots of Tequila before he moved on to his glass of whiskey. The ice cubes hit his upper lip, splashing some of the burning liquid into his nose and somehow reminding him of the dare he'd never fulfilled; getting his belly button pierced.

Liam had dared him to do it an odd number of years ago, but Harry always put it off, promising to do it next year for his birthday but never following through with it. He wasn't sure if Liam forgot about it, or remembered it and just chose not to bring it up anymore. Whatever the reason, Harry was feeling kind of reckless tonight and a needle piercing his skin sounded like just the thing he needed.

“You got piss down your leg,” Harry pointed out when Liam returned, following the words with another long drink out of his glass. “Take your bitch beer before I projectile vomit all over you.” Sliding the tray across the table to Liam, Harry was only reminded he'd never answered the question about Liam’s little girlfriend coming along until she suddenly appeared by their table, dressed in a skimpy dress that barely kept her breasts from flopping out, and bright pink lipstick that was smudged across her face and stuck in clumps on her teeth.

“I hope y'all don't mind that I brought my friend. I kind of promised her you'd have her a date. Oh, hi Harry.” she said in a sickeningly sweet southern accent, not at all looking or sounding like the she devil she had been the other night. Snorting when he seen the chick was side eyeing him before she pushed a girl towards him, Harry abruptly stood up and finished the rest his drink in one swallow.  _He was not going to play her games._

“I don't like you, and I won't pretend to. You can suck my friends dick as much as you want, but you're just a reckless druggy who likes to claw at people trying to help. Go to rehab, coke whore,” he said, rubbing beneath his nose to show her that she'd missed some of the white powder. Turning to her brunette friend with soft grey eyes and a big smile, Harry  _almost_ felt bad for what came out of his mouth. “I don't bat for your team, sorry honey. Maybe you can succubus some other man into your wicked webs, but I'm going to back away from you she devils before I end up with more claw marks to compliment the ones on the back of my hand. Have a nice night.”

Waving off Liam’s glare, Harry made his way to the bar and ordered another whiskey, which he finished in two chugs, before he approached a smaller male that was standing on the other side of the bar looking both lost and lonely. “Can I buy you anything?”  _Smooth. Your breath reeks like booze and desperation._

Leave it to Harry to make his drink choice sound inferior. Just because Liam liked to take it slow and sip his drink, not getting drunk right away as he’d done enough of that Sunday night at the bonfire.  _But you’re in college and should be having the time of your life!_ The inner voice was nagging at him. Liam was an old man locked in a good looking twenty something year old body, he was probably going to fizzle and burn before he hit forty. Such was life.

“I learned how to wipe myself properly when I was two, Harry. But nice try trying to embarrass me, lad.” He embraced Abigail, giving her a big smooch on the lips just to disgust Harry any further Abigail was kind of an airhead, she was on the cheerleading squad - yay stereotypes, and was known for being a party girl through the grapevine, but Liam had seen worse. He tried to find the good in everyone,  _tried_  being the key word.

When Harry got up and left the table after insulting both girls, he rubbed at his forehead then gestured to the empty spot across from him, “Feel free to sit, Fiona. Harry might or might not be back. No worries though, he’s just bitter.” Liam had caught the coke whore comment and was trying to discreetly eye Fiona’s upper lip, as she’d just waved the comment off with a giggle and vacant look in her eyes, leaving LIam to suppose she was under the influence of something(s). “So.. what are you majoring in, Fiona?”

Wiping at his twitching nose, Harry finally gave into his boredom and groaned, letting his head fall from his hand and smack against the cool top of the bar. Tom, the boy he'd approached, had been droning on and on about some meeting at work and he had yet to even address the fact that Harry was very much coming on to him, and was very likely to lose interest if he heard about one more powerpoint presentation on failed inventions. “Listen, Tom, while I'm sure you lead a very fascinating life, I'm not  _actually_ interested in getting to know anything about you. I wanna fuck. Like a rabbit. So, unless you're interested, I'm afraid you're going to have to cram your work up your ass and go elsewhere to find someone who is interested in what you do at your desk job. Mkay?” smiling sweetly, Harry batted his eyelashes and folded his fingers to rest his chin on the back on his good hand.

“Um, I'm not gay, dude. I just wanted somebody to talk to,” blushing, Tom ducked head and rubbed at the back of his neck. He didn't mean to lead the man on, just enjoyed being able to unload on someone who was actually face to face with him rather than across the world on a computer. “I mean, don't take offence to that. You're a good looking dude, I just… I don't take it up the ass. Sorry.” Flinching back when he seen the mans green orbs flare, Tom quickly stood and scrambled past Harry with some lame excuse about going to the bathroom. He was tiny. He couldn't fight.

Headbutting the counter repeatedly, Harry whined low in his throat and lifted a hand, two fingers out. “I'll have a scotch, please. Make it the strongest one you got.” looks like he wasn't fucking any time soon, so he might as well get piss drunk. Maybe then he'll mistake the two ogres Liam had invited with them, as men, and actually be able to get his dick wet tonight. Fuck. What's it been? Three weeks since the last time he got laid?

All three decided to head out for a cigarette. A detour to the bar to refresh their drinks - Liam heading into the heavy stuff as he’d already down a few beers just to keep himself interested in the conversation the two girls were having, as they seemed to dominant the subject and insist on going on about things that were as vapid and uninteresting as their personalities, Liam never claimed to like Abigail for her brains. Trailing behind the two, his soft chocolate eyes searched the room for Harry, seeing him at the bar just as the red head that’d been with Louis the night of the bonfire took a seat two stools down from the curly haired one.

Purposely cutting across the room to walk past the line of stools at the bar, he leaned in to whisper to Harry that they were heading outside for a smoke if he wanted to join them then gave him a pat on the back as he started for the door, turning head to look at Ed for a second then down at his phone to type a text message. Any new person he encountered, he did a thorough search on,  _just in case._  He wanted nothing to go afoul with this.

Flinching when Liam had snuck up on him, Harry lifted his head and looked at him through blurry eyes before they found a familiar head of red hair. In his fastly approaching drunk mind, Harry decided he looked friendly enough and he slowly slid his feet across the floor until he managed to collapse in the seat next to the ginger “You're Louis’ friend,” he said, just an observation he'd made. He didn't think he sounded accusing or rude, but Ed jumped as soon as Harry had spoke and took off running towards the bathrooms.  _Wow. So porcelain toilets were more interesting that him. Okay._

Finding the man's behavior odd, Harry sipped at his drink that was now mainly ice and followed in the same direction Liam had went. Turns out, and he honestly didn't know this, you couldn't take cups outside with you and you couldn't leave without paying or starting a tab. Slipping the buff man a hundred dollar bill, Harry petted his hairless head before he finally emerged into the outside world.

“Some ginger just took off running like I was-- give me a smoke Li, I can't find mine-- like I was some pedi looking to touch his tiny toes.” Swaying a Tad bit, Harry's face wrinkled in confusion at his own words and he laughed softly when Liam placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and slipped an already lit cigarette past his lips. He was too kind of a person, and Harry didn't deserve him.

“Was it Ed? I saw him sitting at the bar as I was passing,” Liam hadn’t gotten his answer yet and he was an impatient man. Sliding phone into his back pocket, after making sure the volume was up and his notifications were on, he lit his second cigarette, welcoming the feel of the nicotine and various other carcinogens rushing to his lungs. The first drag always left him light headed as Liam wasn’t a regular smoker, he only smoke when he drank, though that could make him a regular drinker as he drank almost daily? However it worked.

What was Ed running from? Or was he just that spooked? Heading farther onto the patio, he guided Harry to a chair to make him sit then dumped himself into one, ashing into the receptacle provided.

The man’s ears must have been ringing as pretty sure the ginger emerged from the bar with his own unlit Marlboro between his lips while yapping away on his cell phone. Liam raised a hand to wave at him, but received a deer in the headlights look as Ed started for the back where another patio was located with more seating options and a grill and stage for special occasions. Weird.

Liam’s phone beeped and he pulled it out. On the screen was Ed’s personal information, it was clean. He had nothing against him, not even a speeding ticket or truancy from school. Mr. goody two shoes. No wonder Louis was friends with him.

The familiarity of the man hadn't really seeped into Harry's mind, too muddled with alcohol to really make the connections his brain was trying to spark. All he knew was the ginger was Louis’ friend. He didn't remember him from London, didn't remember the night of the fire, and certainly didn't remember that he was supposed to be watching himself, that people were ‘after’ him. He was at a vulnerable point right now, with alcohol weighing down his movements, but he knew if it came down to it he could still protect himself and win.

Taking a drag off the cigarette, Harry flicked the ashes on the ground and leaned his head back to gaze up at the darkening sky, pink and orange rays slicing through the few remaining clouds and sizzling out into a soft salmon color. He wasn't much of a star gazer, but tonight the barely there, bright dots were seemingly calling to him. Telling him stories only he could see, but yet to understand. “Li, I am a… Am I a forgettable person? Like, am I not worth remembering?” Harry suddenly asked, not looking at the man but letting his eyes find the two chicks Liam had invited. 

They were about fifteen feet away, sitting on the grass beneath a tree digging through some plastic baggy they had. Harry didn't know what made them seem to stand out, but the way they kept twitching, or looking up at Harry before glancing around the surrounding area, played a big factor in his opinion on them being bat shit crazy.

Opening mouth to say something, he was also watching the two girls when he got bumped by Ed from behind. Ed had been on the phone again, not paying attention as he scanned the horizon for the people he was meeting up with to pull up. Liam offered the redhead another smile, only to receive a grimace as he flounced off the patio to the parking lot as headlights swept over the crowd and went dark. His friends must have arrived.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Liam snubbed out his cigarette, only to take a drink of his vodka then lit another smoke, wishing he’d bought more than one pack as it was dwindling slowly. Brown eyes squinted against grey smoke as he looked at Harry then at the two girls. Licking over lips, he noticed the plastic baggie and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t into that, he knew what Harry did, but didn’t partake. “You’re unforgettable. A gem.”

The high pitched voice of Louis broke through the conversations on the patio as he greeted Ed and apparently Cole, who’d shown up a few minutes ago. Watching the quartet out of the corner of his eye, he darted look to Harry then at Louis, moving to block the curly haired one’s view.

Harry frowned, having heard the voices and wanting to see who was here but Liam was blocking his view. Flicking his cigarette at the mans back, Harry huffed and hauled himself up, surprisingly able to keep himself steady when the world was tilting in his eyes. “I need to take a piss,” he mumbled, already forgetting about his curiosity. Petting Liam’s shaved head, Harry tapped his cheek as he passed him and leaned in to drunkenly mumble, “You're a gem too. Everyone else are rocks.”

Feeling proud, Harry slowly crawled his way back into the bar and went straight for the toilets, fingers poking and prodding past all the sweaty bodies trying to grind on him. “Keep your juices to yourself, caveman!” He yelled at some hairy ass dude who tried pulling him onto the dancefloor, missing the frantic look that shot through the man's eyes before he quickly followed after Harry.

Humming, Harry went into a stall (the urinals looked disgusting) and locked it behind him before he turned around and set down, pants still up and legs crossing. He didn't need to piss, and he wasn't as gone as Liam thought he was. Well, maybe he was, but his common sense wasn't gone. Unlocking his screen, he opened up his contacts, finger hovering over the contact he'd selected before he finally just slammed his finger down on the screen.

Waiting for the other person to answer was always torture, especially when you were teetering on the edge of being drunk. The ringing was always too loud, and the silence deafening. “Who the fuck do you have following me?” He spat into the phone, fingers curling around the device to the point he could feel as it literally began to bend.

“I have no idea what you're on about, Harry. I have nobody following you, and haven't since your second year here.” Desmond said, followed by something rustling on the other side of the phone. “If somebody is truly following you, it isn't my men. Where are you? I'll send someone ov--”  _no thanks_. Harry wasn't interested in being babysat. He was just disqualifying Des so he didn't end up wrongfully murdering one of his guys.

Whispering into Cole’s ear, he pushed his way through the crowd into the bar, bypassing the actual bar to use the bathroom first. Singing Piano Man under his breath, having spotted a piano sitting by itself in the far corner of the building, he pressed fingers together to crack his knuckles then ran smack into a close door of a stall. Oops. Someone is in there. Dumbass.

“Sorry!” Louis called into the stall then took the one next to it. He was pulling his pants down to relieve himself when the shouting started, startled and staring at the wall. Shaking head, he did his business then slowly got out of the stall to wash his hands. He sort of wanted to stick around to see who was in the other stall, but didn’t want to look like a creep while waiting around. Decisions..

Shoving hands under the turbo hand dryer then exited the bathroom and over to the bar, the line was slowly getting shorter, with nobody walking in at the moment. Joining behind a really tall guy in a loud red shirt, he pulled out his phone to text Cole, even though he could literally see the brunette through the windows. Waving at him, he typed out a message then laughed when the one sent back mirrored what Louis was just thinking.

 _“Sorry, but I forgot what you wanted to drink, remind me?”_ Louis sent a winky face then kiss emoji as he stepped forward as the line did. There were three people between him and the counter. A knocking on the window caught Louis’ attention as he pointed at the whiskey Ed was more than likely drinking. He had Zayn’s drink order memorized, having been the man’s drinking partner since they hit teen years and he’d grab Ed another one, not able to see if his drink was almost gone or not.

Nobody Harry called had anyone following him, and nobody knew anything until he called Ron. “Austin Tomlinson, my boy. His men aren't anything to worry about, either. Just a couple of college students and maybe one or two bigger men. They give you any trouble, you call me.” Then he was hanging up, leaving Harry with a promise that he'd see him on Friday.

Why was it, that after eight years, the rat was still around and causing problems? It didn't take Harry long to figure out who the few college students were, and the one they were most likely protecting had just left the bathroom. Wow, what great watchmen they were. Whatever they thought Harry was going to do to Louis, he could have just done and got away with it.

Not wanting to be here anymore and have to look at Louis without being seen in the way he wanted to, Harry sent Liam a text saying he was ready to go then added another text saying if Liam wanted to stay, Harry would give him cash for an Uber. Finally taking his much needed piss, Harry emerged from the stalls only to come face to face with the caveman. “Listen, buddy, you're not my type.”

Apparently, Harry was his and the man didn't take rejection well because he was grabbing Harry by the throat and shoving him against the wall next to the door, where he leaned over and locked the top bolt. “Mr. Austin ain't appreciate you coming around his boy,” he man said in a heavy, thick russian accent. He sounded entirely uneducated, but Harry was letting him have his way. It was thrilling to be manhandled, and he wanted the big brute to feel powerful for a minute before he kicked his ass.

Delivering the drinks, he promised Cole he’d be right back and swept inside the air conditioned building and over to the piano. There was no sign saying to not use the instrument, so Louis sat his happy ass down and positioned fingers over the keys. What to play? There was no music going on, just the din of conversation and Louis suddenly felt shy. If he started playing, everyone would be looking at him. Chewing on his lip, he got up and took a sip of his drink then went to the hallway leading to the bathroom or you could take the step down and out to the fenced in backyard of the bar. He almost didn’t hear the slam against the wall in the bathroom and paused.

“Hello?”

Yes, just yell out hello, there’s probably a murderer hiding and he’s going to jump out and kill ya. HIs brain was rolling its eyes as Louis ignored it and kept for the door. He tried the knob, but it was locked. If he wanted to injure himself farther, he’d throw his body weight against it, but as he was still healing from the dislocated shoulder, Louis grabbed the first person to walk by and pointed at the bathroom door, explaining that he’d heard suspicious sounds behind it only to get a weird look back.

“They’re probably fucking behind closed doors, dude. Don’t touch me again.” The man shoved past Louis to the main part of the bar, leaving the smaller one to grasp his shoulder and down the rest of his drink.

Louis huffed and faced the bathroom door, smacking hand hard against it, “OY YOU! Come out! Some people need to use the shitter, too!”

Caveman didn't like that Louis was within hearing distance, and he definitely didn't want Harry to speak so he moved a hand to cup it over Harry’s mouth and pressed a knee  _hard_  against his stomach. “I'm taking a shit. Go away,” the man shouted, blowing tobacco scented breath over Harry's face as he waited patiently for another noise. When nothing came, his hand around Harry's mouth disappeared and he was once again shoving him back into the wall and planting a fist in the middle of his gut.

Trying to keep himself from giving into the urge to vomit, Harry blinked away the stars that began to swim in his vision when his head bounced off the wall. “Is this the part when I'm supposed to scream like a girl? Beg for my life?” Harry asked, the sarcasm very much needed. Grinning, while still trying to catch his breath, Harry squeezed his hands between their two bodies and shoved;  _hard._

“Austin Tomlinson can go suck a dick.” Harry spat, watching as the man fell flat on his back. “If he wasn't such a coward bitch, I'd say this to his face. Tell him to get the fuck out of San Francisco, and to leave me and my family alone before I get really pissed.” And with one calculated punch to the temple, the man was passing out and gifting Harry with a long, drawn out fart. “Nasty fuck.”

Passing a mirror, Harry chanced a glance up and seen he had finger shaped bruises wrapping around his neck, the purple standing out against his pale skin. “Fucking great. Nothing like asphyxiation.” His night out ended up turning to shit, and the buzz he may have once been feeling was now gone and he was left with a throbbing between his eyes.

Not giving in, Louis had whined to a bartender, spinning a sad story about needing the keys because the bathroom door had locked itself. It worked as Louis was handed them and he ran for the bathroom. Shoving key into the hole, he twisted the knob to push it open, only to see Harry and the man laying on the ground.

“The hell is going on here?” Louis asked. He walked over to the man laying on the ground. INstant recognition as he gave a swift kick to the man’s leg, “Get up, Gustav. The hell you doing in America? Last I saw you was in Russia.”

It still wasn’t pinging where he knew Harry from, but the sight of one of his dad’s oldest and dearest - and perverted, friend made Louis want to spontaneously combust then call his father up to bitch. He hated Gustav and his wandering eyes and hands. Louis had complained many times about the older gent, but his dad turned a blind ear to it. He always did.

Kicking Gustav again, he peered at Harry’s reflection then at the unconscious man. Putting two and two together, he narrowed eyes, “How do you know him?” Louis pointed at Gustav then gave a screech. “That’s it! I'm calling my father!” Whipping out phone, he took pictures of Gustav lying on the floor then without asking permission, snapped pictures of Harry’s injuries and rapidly texted them to his dad. “Austin Michael Tomlinson, you have some splaining to do you fucking rat.”

Harry lunged for the phone, tried to stop Louis from sending the text but he watched in horror as he sent the messages, followed by a text Harry didn't see. Backing up an inch or so, he lifted his hands in the air for absolutely no reason before they fell, along with his mouth. “I-I pissed on his leg. He got pissed, must be hot headed.” Shrugging, he tried not to act too obvious when anxiety was clawing away at his chest and trying to escape up his throat.

Louis knew nothing, as far as Harry could tell. He didn't remember their time in London, or really even anything in London. He didn't know who his father was, or why they left to America. He didn't  _know_ that Austin was wanted in pretty much every city in the UK. He was oblivious to it all, and didn't know he'd more or less just set Harry's death into motion.

Fixing his tank top that had slipped off one shoulder in the commotion, Harry glanced out the bathroom door like a spaz and quickly slammed it shut and locked it when he seen Zayn making his way down the hallway. “Listen, Louis, you don't know me and you don't know the shit I'm capable of. You need to stay away from me, and you need to stay out of my business. I have shit to handle with your dad, and I don't want to use you to get to him, but I will.” Threatening him was the only way to keep him safe, and Harry would rather ruin all chances of ever getting Louis back than to keep him and put him in harm's way.

Didn't mean his heart wasn't breaking, though. And it didn't mean that his entire world wasn't crumbling to the ground, shattering open to reveal broken memories and black pits that he was tempted to just jump in and disappear; never to be heard from again, and never to hurt anymore people.

And threats were one thing Louis wasn’t afraid of. He was used to them, kind of aware that his dad wasn’t a great man, but not knowing the full detail. One day though, his brain would unlock and everything would come pouring out. Looking Harry up and down, Louis scoffed and took a sip of his vodka he’d forgotten he’d been holding and why did he bring it into the bathroom?! When it was mostly melted ice mixed with diluted vodka, he set it on the edge of the sink to study Harry.

“Listen Harold. No matter what your shit is with my dad or whatever this is, it concerns me because a. . he’s my dad and b. . like I haven’t noticed people have been trying to keep me and you away from each other. I”m not totally oblivious. There’s something going on there and my brain is too muddled to piece it together, but there’s a spark,” Loius put a finger up to poke Harry in the nose, “A spark that will light the whole thing on fire and explode. Then I’ll remember why you look so fucking familiar or why my heart does fluttery shit when I see you or hear your voice. You stupid jackass”

Exiting the door, he ran into it again not realizing the curly haired one had locked it. Jingling the keys, he flipped the lock and walked out just in time to run into Zayn who was staring into the bathroom at Harry. If looks could kill, they’d be burying Harry. Louis groaned loudly and pushed for Zayn to turn around and walk back the way he’d come to return the keys and grab another drink.

Speaking lowly, he crossed arms about his front, “Zee, I know there’s some lingering hatred… dislike.. Jealousy of Harry, but why? What did he do that is so bad? He snapped my arm back into place.”

Zayn’s eyes went dark at the mention of Harry. He was under strict orders from Austin to get Louis off the subject of Harry or the Styles if it came up and he was usually smooth about it, but the whiskey and coke had loosened his lips and what came out, should never been said. “They’re bad people. Nothing good has ever come from them. You gotta stay away from them.”

“Rich coming from you, Malik. You're sticking up for the wrong man, and you know it,” Harry growled, having heard what Zayn had said when he followed Louis out of the bathroom. He couldn't have Louis digging into his memories, couldn't have him remembering everything because there were things that  _did_  need to stay buried. Like the last thing Harry had said to him. He could never take those words back, but at least now Louis didn't remember them. And he didn't need to know who his dad really was. He didn't need to have his childhood squashed like that.

“I don't know you, Louis, and I honestly don't care to. There is no spark, and there never has been. I popped your arm back in to place, that's it. Quit reading into things and listen to fucking Zayn. Stay away from me. I'm no good, and you don't need me in your life.” Glancing up at Zayn, who didn't stop him from speaking but was just glaring, Harry took a deep breath to still his fast beating heart and willed himself to just stop  _feeling._

“Go back to your barbie world. Fuck whoever crosses your path, continue to survive off of Daddy’s money, and make sure to fondle Zayn’s balls while you're down on your knees blowing him. But just fuck off and leave me alone already. There's a reason I didn't want you around me, and it's because I don't care much for you bitchy, cheerleading types.” shoving past the men, and on the verge of hyperventilating, Harry ran outside the bar and completely ignored Liam as he darted for his bike.

It was too much, too little, not enough but he was going to burst open from everything he was feeling. The night was comforting, but tonight it was suffocating and he couldn't ignore the hands that were reaching out from the shadows and trying to pull him into the darkness with them. He's kept himself distant from everyone for a reason, has stayed emotionless so things like this didn't happen, but he felt like he'd just ripped out all the good parts of him and set them on fire.  _It was all over and he had nothing but a vacant chest to prove Louis had even once been his._

The whole time Harry was trying to be Billy Badass, Louis was giggling. He’s seen this type before, hiding behind a facade. But he’d just let the guy ramble on and get his words out. When the bathroom was clear, he tucked phone from his pocket to check the time then licked over his lips.

“Guess what time it is? Beer o’clock and when I say beer, I mean let’s have some vodka.” Louis whistled and headed straight for the bar for another refill, suddenly parched from the events that had gone down and leaving Gustav laying on the bathroom floor for someone to find.

Liam was happily conversing with Abigail, the two standing so close it looked like they were trying to become one. The brown eyed one was drunk, as was Abigail, but add stoned to the mixture as she and the friend had indulged quite a bit from the plastic baggie. Liam had politely declined, avoiding their judgemental faces and partaking more in the alcohol. When he saw Harry suddenly dart by and head outside, Liam put his glass down and mumbled an excuse to the girls and ran after his friend, not seeing Louis and Zayn emerging from the same direction Harry had come.

“Harry, Hey Harry! What’s wrong?” Liam almost tripping going down the steps, causing a group standing near them to cackle at his expense. Ignoring them, he looked up in time to see the motorcycle starting up and zoom away. Shit.

He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to escape for a while and the wind whipping at his face was welcome, chilling the sweat that began to creep down his face. He was probably breaking fifteen laws as he sped down the road, but no cop was in sight and he couldn't find one fuck to give.

He just drove, letting his heart lead the way and by the time he realized where he was, he was already outside of San Francisco city limits and driving through thick, giant trees that only spread out for a few hundred feet before he broke through the darkness and was swallowed by low hanging lamps that cast yellow lights. He didn't know how he'd made it this far, or even survived because he honestly wasn't even focusing on driving, but he recognized the dirt path his bike was creeping across and didn't even need his sight to know that just beyond the thick wall of shrubs off to his right, was a small lake.

Killing his engine, Harry climbed off his bike and left his keys in the ignition, too far away from civilization to worry about anyone stealing it. Wearing a sleeveless shirt probably wasn't a good idea, but he didn't even think he'd be climbing through branches to get to a place he used to come to when he first moved to America. It was his only secret place.

The path he'd once cut down, had since grown back in the six months its been since he'd last been here, so he had to endure the branches scratching and digging at his arms. When he fell out on the other side, he scrambled to his feet and went straight for the tree that has grown quite a bit in the past four years. Moving the rock, Harry undug the brown wooden box he'd buried here years ago and opened it.

It was useless things, but the things he held close to his heart. Pictures of him and Louis as kids, the letters Louis and him used to write each other (well the ones he'd gotten from Louis. The boy probably didn't have the ones Harry gave him) and a few other things, like the ring Louis had won and gave to Harry, a few bracelets they were never allowed to wear by made each other…. And set at the bottom of the pile was the letter eight year old Louis had written for a twenty year old Harry. The man never had the heart to open it, even when the date on the envelope finally arrived. He couldn't stand knowing what Louis had thought of him, and not have the boy there to compare the written words to…

But tonight, something urged him to finally tear open the partially ripped, wrinkled envelope and pull out the now yellow piece of paper;

 

**_Dear H,_ **

****_I dont know why im writing you a letter but I want you to know that I love you! My mum and dad will come around soon and we'll have the wedding Im always talking about! I know im not always easy but I promise ill always give you my extra slice of pie. Oh, right. This is for future you. (Past you is annoying and keeps trying to peak)_  
  
I hope by the time your reading this we are married and I have my six kids! Hehe. If your bald I will divorce you and find another man with curly brown hair. Just kidding. I love you Hazza. Always and forever. Thank you for loving me to and keeping me safe. I know you hide me from my papas life. You don't lie very good but I let you believe you do. Promise me you will always be my curly haired Knight? I never want to lose you, Froggie.   
  
Xoxo,   
  
BUNNNNNYYYY

But he'd lost him, hadn't he? He wasn't a Knight in shining armor anymore. He was a dumb arse in tin foil, trying to keep from losing it when the world seemed so against him.  _He just wanted that Louis back._ He wanted…. He wanted his damn feelings to go away!  _Fucking emotions._


	3. Chapter 3

Harry stepped out into the cloudy evening, the air thick and sweet smelling as clouds of rain hung low in the sky, waiting for the perfect moment until they finally burst open and ruined the dinner Harry didn't even want to attend. His parents had insisted he come though, to see the family and make amends for his outburst the other day.Shoving his keys into his pocket, Harry sighed deeply and cast one last look at his bike, which was parked beneath the wooden garage placed on the side of the Styles property, before he sucked up his displeasure and walked up to the door.

His knuckles hovered over the wooden door, but then he thought twice about it and shook his head as he twisted the knob and stepped into the over extravagant house. It was three stories, with twelve bedrooms, five bathrooms and god knows how many closets and offices. The main entry was bland at the very most, with white walls and a spiral staircase that led up to the second floor. But when you walked out of the foyer, you were greeted with a large living room that had a little bit of everything hanging on the walls. The furniture was a godly brown leather, supposedly one that matched the white, furry rug placed in front of their fireplace.

If he wasn't mistaken, he would think this house belonged to some rich, snobby assholes who let some hoarder's house throw up in here. But Des and Anne were far from the rich snobs everyone knew. They had money, and worked damn hard for it, but it wasn't the main focus in their lives or even their marriage. They loved each other when they had nothing, and still loved each other now that they had everything and more.

Following the loud yelling, Harry walked through the living room, past the dining room and through the kitchen to open the french doors that led out onto a patio. “Really? A barbecue in this weather?” Harry asked, surprised the music wasn't blaring yet. Grinning at his family, he accepted all the hugs and different greetings before he plopped down on the wooden chair he was offered.

“Nice to see you made it, Harry.” Des said from his place in front of the barbecuer, face hidden behind the steady rise of smoke. The rest of the family was sitting in the pit, somewhere he wasn't looking to go. It was below ground, with cement stairs leading down to a sand covered floor and wooden benches to sit on. In the middle of it was a fire pit, rocks surrounding it with a surround system and all, the touch screen pad to control it all placed next to the doors.

It was all extra, but Harry couldn't deny it wasn't a good place to have a party. There was a swimming pool just beyond the fire pit, and on the opposite side of the backyard was a tennis/basketball court. He's thrown many ‘get togethers’ here, and always leaves his parents to clean up the fifteen acres by themselves.  _Wasn't his favorite place to be, though._ “So, why am I here?”

Anne, looking annoyed at the moment, got to her feet to walk over to the outdoor bar and help herself to another drink. The bar there had been a necessity, booze should always be at hand at a Styles’ get together, she figured that out the moment she met Des’s parents. Mixing herself another martini, bracelets clanking against each other as she shook the tumbler then poured it into her pink-tinted glass and topped dropped a handful of olives in it. “Harry, darling!” She took a sip of her drink then headed over to her only son to wrap arms around him in a tight hug then sat down beside Des again. “Your father wanted to tell you something. I have no idea what it is, he wouldn’t discuss it with me.”

You could hear the venom rolling from each of Ann’s words and if looks could kill, Des would be facedown on the cement. Ann  _hated_  being left out of the loop on anything, having a nose for gossip and a mouth for repeating it to anyone willing to listen, and there was always someone willing to listen.

“Thank you,  _dear._ ” Des said through gritted teeth as he fought to roll his eyes at her. His wife was dramatic, sure, but he did love her. Standing up, he downed the rest of his whiskey then set the empty glass on the table, the ice cubes clinking against each other. “Harry, what did we do to make you hate us? Please tell us. That attitude of yours the other day, making your mother cry and purposely destroying your own personal effects? That’s not you, son.”

Ann took a leisurely sip of her drink, fishing out an olive with turquoise painted fingers and popped it between two lips of a subtle baby pink. Chewing thoughtfully, she stood up and walked over to a large box, gesturing to it with the hand not holding the drink. “We so thoughtfully replaced the items you wrecked. You need these for your college experience, Harry.”

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes, fingers pressing against his temple in an attempt to silence the budding headache. He had so much to say, was in the mood to start an argument and if a fight ensued, he'd have an excuse to leave. But then he would hear about it for the next week until he got guilt tripped into going to the next dinner. Mentally zipping his mouth, Harry simply offered his mother a forced grin and his father a slight scowl. “Your right, it isn't me. I should be the proper, goody two shoes Liam is, yeah? Maybe  _then_  I'll accept all handouts without a question.”  _There goes being nice_.

Standing, Harry approached the box of things and noticed off to the side of it was the TV, sitting beneath the porch as to not get rained on. “I do appreciate it, Anne. Truly. And I'll try not to be such a dick next time,” another forced smile. Pulling Anne into a hug, Harry exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding when he seen the familiar head of blonde hair pop her head out the door.

“Harry!” She shrieked, tumbling out of the house with a toddler on her hip. “I thought I'd never see you again, you ass!” Swatting at his chest, Gemma made a show of pulling him into a hug and planting a sloppy kiss on the side of his temple, her very… Vibrant red lipstick smearing across his skin and making a few random strands of hairs stick to his face.

She smelt like the only thing he has ever classified as home. Like a rose garden, paired with a little spice that smelt so fucking familiar but just reminded Harry of the good old days when they used to go out to the pond behind their old house in London. Gemma has grown, though. Grew up way before her time, and the twelve year old little snot rag walking out of the house was the reason.

“Hey, Jake.” Harry called to his nephew, who completely ignored him and continued walking with his face buried in his phone. “He's an asshole, Gems.” Muttering it just low enough for her to hear, Harry turned with a small laugh and  _finally_ acknowledged his sister. He picked her up, practically melding their two bodies together as he spun her in a clumsy circle and repeated the kiss to her forehead. “Shut it. I seen you like, a week ago.”  _Maybe his time was a little off._

Gemma was the type of sister you grew up admiring, the one who was always there to relentlessly tease you but also kick everyone else's ass if they tried. She was still that hard ass little girl, even when she got pregnant at fourteen and had to buck up and take responsibility-- considering the father wouldn't. She did good with Jake, for the most part. She just gave in too easily and spoiled him.

Picking up the newest member of the Styles clan, Harry grinned when the dimply little girl did. “Well hello there, Marie.” He cooed to the toddler, honestly too in love with her. It was bad for him, he wasn't ready for kids. Marie was Gemma’s little girl, who she'd waited to have until she got settled down and married with a guy who  _actually_  had his head pulled out of his ass and wasn't in any way associated with Reaper’s soul.

“Quit fonding over my daughter and go make me a drink, Frog face.” Gemma was completely kidding when she used the name from their childhood, but she didn't miss as his eyes sparked with something-- gone before she could see what it was, and the way he flinched slightly. “You okay, Haz?” She asked in a soft voice, gentle fingers going to rub up and down his back but he jerked away and smiled.

“Fine, fine. Vodka and orange juice?” Shaking whatever it was off, Harry passed Marie back to Gemma and quickly hurried over to the bar. He needed to get this all under control before he let something slip, before his sister really seen that he wasn't, in fact,  _okay._ Louis… He just… He fucked him up, all over again.

The liquid from her drink was drained and Ann was chewing hard on the olives. Des stood beside her, looking down as he tried to figure out what to say when his mother stepped onto the patio, a trail of cigarette smoke following behind her like a grey puppy. Taking a noisy drag from the Pall Mall, Sophia walked over and sat beside Ann on the bench, taking up more than her half of the space then snapped fingers at her son.

“Desmond, get me a martini too,” Sophie pressed the cigarette into the ash tray then lit another one before the first one’s smoked had even smoldered away. Her raspy cough too close to Ann’s face made the woman cringe and Sophie cackle with glee. She didn’t like Ann at all. “Controlled your child yet? You’re the one who wanted another one after your daughter. If I was you, I’d have stuck with one like I did. Des is a good boy.”

Rolling eyes, Ann hated hearing her mother in law boast about her husband. He never did anything wrong, he was a saint in Sophie’s eyes.  _If she only fucking knew what he really was like, the old lady would croak and the last thing she’d see or hear is me laughing her face while I spit on it. Ghastly woman she is._

The interaction with Harry and Gemma seemed genuine, Ann was almost jealous that her own daughter had a better relationship with her son than she did, but she probably did bring it on herself. Too late now. Lifting glass to take a sip, she forget it was empty and stood up to join her husband at the bar.

“Excuse me, Nana Styles. Need a refill!” Ann shook the glass then hauled away to make another one, this one being stronger than the first. She needed something to get through this visit. She jabbed Des hard in the side with one sharp nail while uncapping the vodka and pouring it. “Why did we agree to let her live with us? Oh, because she’d gone through hip surgery a good three years ago!” Ann hissed as she poured a handful of olives into the new drink and took a deep slurp. It wasn’t working fast enough.

Desmond paused in making his mother’s drink and stared up at his wife, “She needed me, Ann! Just like your son needs you and you’re not doing a damn thing about it.”

Ann raised both eyebrows, realizing both the kids would hear if they didn’t shut up. Grabbing Des’s arm, she yanked him to a secluded corner and lowered her voice, “I’m doing everything I can for Harry. You’re the one grooming him for whatever. YOU picked the college. Did you know Louis was going to go there? DID YOU?”

Harry didn't hear his parents conversation, mainly because he didn't care to listen to their voices longer than he had to, but his head was turning in their direction with his ears on high alert when he heard  _that_ name. It was like he was a radar, only picking up on conversations when they had to do with that  _one_ person. He felt like a blood hungry predator, and the only thing he knew that could silence his hunger was  _Louis_.

Sipping at his drink, which was exactly like Gemma’s minus the orange juice…. Which made it a glass full of pure vodka? Who knew? Harry turned to glance at his parents for a second and froze when he noticed they were already staring at him, Desmond’s eyes completely black with veins popping out of his temple and neck. “Whelp, before he makes a scene, Louis goes to school with me.” Harry whispered to Gemma. Mentally kissing his own ass goodbye, Harry drained his glass and let it fall down onto the table with a loud ‘plop’.

“What, Desmond? Can't you accept that I'm not  _like_ you? That I don't  _hate_ people because of what their fathers did? I'm sorry I'm not the perfect fucking child. I'm sorry I'm going to school and becoming somebody without  _drugs, guns and violence._ I'm not like  _you.”_ He repeated the last sentence in a small breath, chest caving in with the realization that he was, and always will be, his parents failed child. He was the disgrace, the nerd, the fucking  _homo._ What else could go fucking wrong? Oh, yeah. Now he was conversing with a fucking rats kid.  _Who was he?_

Stomping over to Harry, Desmond grabbed his son by the arm and pulled him up to stand. “Don’t you dare smart mouth me, boy. I pay for your schooling. I could quit now and shove you out the door. Make you live on your own or with  _Louis_.” He said the name like it was cursed, hissing at the end and narrowing eyes into slits. “I don’t want you anywhere near Louis. You got it? He’s not to be trusted and he’s bad.”

Ann watched the whole thing, afraid to interfere as Des seemed to be in one of his moods with a good plenty of alcohol in his system. She could be meek and play the part of good housewife to a t, but she was also slightly afraid of her husband.

“Des, don’t .. “ Ann got up to loosen Des’s grip on Harry then gave her husband a shove. “Goddamnit. Stop shaking him! He is not a fucking doll for you to toss around like you please.. He’s our son and a living, breathing human being!”

Sophie was cackling wildly as she witnessed this. She was a sadist, to say the least, the matriarch of the Styles family as her husband had passed a good five years ago leaving the woman the fortune and name and power and did Sophie use it. She may be an old lady, but she knew what the hell she was doing and kept her son, nephews, employees and such under a strict thumb. She was better at controlling and manipulating people than being an actual mother, having been married quite a few times, with rumors spreading that she had other children besides Des from the past husbands and other men she brought to bed with her as lovers, as Sophie had been an adultress in her younger years. One man wasn’t enough for her.

Whirling to face Sophie. Ann gave her mother in law a look then downed her new martini. Excusing herself under a mumbled breath, she hurried into the house, slamming the doors closed behind her. A muffled yapping started when the two yorkies that Ann fell in love with and treat better than her actual children, were disturbed and more than likely nipping at the older woman’s feet.

Desmond’s face was red from the drink, the slightly humid weather and the anger hiding behind his features. He squinted at his son, glasses long forgotten about somewhere in the house or car, he never could be bothered to look after them. He’d stopped shaking Harry when Ann intercepted, but now, his hand clenched around his son’s shirt, “Louis Tomlinson is bad news and that is final. No more asking or talking about him! Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry clenched his hands into fists, has swore for years he would never lay a hand in his father, but Des was pushing his limits and he could feel himself giving into the force. “He’s bad news because your little empire got tore down in the UK because his father, Desmond. Not Louis.” Shoving him back, Harry felt as his heart lurched into overdrive and he began to slip in and out of awareness. “You have all of this,” breaking off to gesture around, Harry took a step towards his father and hissed in a low breath, “because you're a shady fucking man who drained every person's bank account in London that cared about you.”

Des didn't know that Harry knew about his little scheme, about how he had fucked over every person who had helped him become the man he was today, helped him build his shop and ‘gang’. “You're a sad old man who holds onto old grudges because it makes your guilt fade away. You don't have to worry about all your problems and faults when you can place them on someone else.” Harry was fisting Desmond’s shirt now, face mere inches away from his father's. “Well guess what,  _Daddy_ , I'll fuck and talk to  _whoever_ I want. And if you dare try to fuck with my schooling, I'll take every fucking drug dealer in this town from you and make  _damn_ sure that your little paradise goes up in flames.”

Gemma had both her kids cradled in her arms, Jake’s awkwardly long body folded to fit against her side with his legs draped over her own and his head buried in her neck. Marie was too young to realize what was going on, so she was happily babbling away on the fake purple cell phone Gemma had given her in hopes of keeping her occupied. “Both of you, stop it! My children are right here, and I don't need them seeing their uncle and grandpa fist fighting over some boy who is innocent in all of this,”

Desmond rolled his eyes at his daughter then plastered a fake smile on his face toward his grandchildren. “They’ll find out soon enough what kind of person their Uncle Harry is.” Desmond turned an eerie smile to Harry as he let go of his son’s shirt and grabbed him by the back of the neck, squeezing tight, “Because he knows who’s the leader here and it’s not him.”

While this ruckus was going on, Ann had grabbed the cake she’d ordered earlier and a couple bag of chips to bring outside, leaving the door opened to allow some beeze in and to let the dogs out to roam the fenced in backyard. Setting the stuff on the table, she was not surprised to see her husband and son still going head to head. “Guys, stop it and come eat. Des grab the meat off the grill. Gem, help me grab something else from the kitchen?”

Side eyeing her husband, Ann disappeared into the house once more with Gem on her heels while Jake and Marie sat there, the son now holding his sister. Desmond clapped his jaw shut, not wanting to scare his grandbabies as he pointed at Harry and mouthed, “This isn’t over. You won’t win this, Harry.” Then walked over to pick up Marie and give her kisses on the cheek, scratching the delicate skin with his whiskers gently while the baby giggled.

But it was over, and Harry was done. His father may be the only one here who was causing problems, but he knew how nearly everyone here felt about him. He was a nobody, a mooch, a perfect son gone wrong. Swiping at his face, Harry rolled his shoulders and stepped past Des and the kids to go up the steps and towards the sliding doors. “I'm leaving,” he yelled after Anne, having no intention on telling her that it was for good this time.

He was done trying, and fighting, and making up only to have to start at square one the next week. He was a fuck up. He gets it. His dad was an arrogant man who believed everything he said and did was right, and if you tried to go against him he'd fight until his last breath to prove you wrong.  _He_ was  _never_  wrong. Digging his keys out of his pocket, Harry tried calming himself down when he felt like his lungs were on the verge of bursting, heart exploding and brain just disintegrating into nothing.

He didn't talk to Louis, wanted nothing to do with him because he didn't want to fuck his life up all over again, but he'd be damned if he told Desmond that. His father would think he'd won, that Harry was doing this  _for_ him rather than for the rats kid. Louis had a chance at escaping this life, and Harry would kill himself before he willingly drug Louis back into it.

Pulling out of the driveway before anyone could stop him, Harry went straight to the college and made a trip up to the Dean’s office. “I want to change my financial information, and I want to change it now.”

~~~~

Meanwhile, Louis was fit to be tied. He’d run into Harry’s friend Liam, who had been sickeningly sweet until he realized who it was and then his face turned to stone and he stomped away from the smaller fellow. The hell was his problem? He only turned to walk away when he ran into yet another body, this one an Irish fellow by the name of Niall, who seemed nice but kind of cold. Was he one of Harry’s friends, too? Or just a random snob on campus? And how many people were on Harry’s side and would subsequently hate him because of something he couldn’t remember? He hated this amnesia or whatever it was. It was fucking with his head.

Deciding he wanted answers, Louis skipped his last class of the evening in favor of jumping into his vehicle and speeding towards his parents’ home. He knew his mom was out of state for the weekend for a big project she was doing along with a couple coworkers of hers. His dad would maybe be out of the house, usually at someone’s playing pool and drinking whiskey until he got black out drunk then slept on the couch until morning. Austin never stayed home when his wife wasn’t there, which would prove lucky for Louis.

Zooming into the driveway, he pushed the button for the garage door to open and strolled into the unlocked house - nice dad, make it more welcoming for someone to rub us! - where he was welcomed by the the house cat, Bruno, a lazy long haired grey cat who had an attitude to match Jay’s when she was at her bitchiest, which was often. Ignoring the animal, Louis rushed down the steps leading into the sunken living room and across the wooden floor to a set of double doors that were locked tighter than Birmingham Palace. Louis pushed a large potrait of the Tomlinson family to the side to reveal a key taped to the backside of it. Carefully peeling it off he pushed it into the door and was met immediately by stale cigarette smoke, spicy smelling aftershave and an air freshener, no doubt put there by Jay as she was the one with the sensitive nose and always complained about smells nobody else could sense.

This was something Louis was familiar with, sneaking into the study to find out something, but this time, he wanted to dig deeper and find out who the Styles were. Coming around the huge oak desk, he plopped into the leather chair, causing the cushion to make a shhhhh noise as he rummaged through the drawers at his own leisure, he had time.

What he didn’t account for was that Austin had changed his routine and had been out. He did drink at a friends’ house, but only a few drinks, long enough to discuss things then ran across town for some takeout and was on his way back home. Spotting his son’s vehicle in the driveway, he gave a smirk, happy for the company, but he hadn’t gotten enough food for the both of them. He wished Louis had called beforehand.

Stiffening up, Louis heard a car pull up. He held his breath, hoping it would pass on by, but when it came to a stop and the engine was turned off, he began to panic. Shoving everything back in place, fumbling with everything, he gave a groan and shoved a few papers into his pants as he didn’t want to deal with trying to get them in the right order then ran for the door. He had the office doors closed right as Austin walked in, but the key was still in his hand, which he closed tightly around it, feeling the metal dig into his skin.

“Father! I came home to see you and mom.. Where is she?” Louis casually walked away from the doors and over to the couch to plop down and grabbed the remote control to aim it at the flat screen.

Setting down his plastic bag of chinese, Austin moved to sit next to Louis and adopted his same poster, trying to seem relaxed and at ease when in reality he was in high alert. Louis never showed up unannounced, especially when Jay wasn’t home. And he could have swore Louis knew of his mother’s business trip, had even helped her pick out the hotel and dresses she was to wear.

Eyeing his son, Austin cast a worried look at his office door before he let out a deep breath and finally began to open his carton of food.  _Nothing seemed wrong or out of place._ “She’s in Colorado, for work. Surely you remember, we told you last week?” Austin said casually, though he was gauging Louis. The therapist had warned of short term memory loss, and said to keep an eye out for it. If Louis was starting to forget things, it could lead to more serious problems in the future.

Glancing at the doors once again, it was only this time that Austin seen the picture hanging crooked on the wall, the same one he had made sure was straight and perfect before he’d left for dinner. Tongue poking the inside of his cheek, he scoffed quietly and threw his dinner down on the table. “Why is it that you’re really here, Louis? You coming to see me and your mother doesn’t grant you permission to snoop through my office.”

Aside from a few slip up through the years, Austin has tried not to hit Louis or raise his voice at him. It was only when they lived in London, and Louis was friends with that… that… inbred  _freak_  that he had a real problem with his son. The drinks took away his common sense and his morality, and brought out the aggressive side of him that didn’t agree with his son being some fag, and certainly not when he was butt buddies with the Styles’ trailer trash son.

When they moved, though, and Austin made all of Louis’... problems go away, so did most of his own. The beatings became rarer and rarer until now, they were non existent. But now, with the alcohol in his veins and Harry on his mind, he was on the verge of snapping and wouldn’t have one problem taking everything out on Louis. After all, it wouldn’t be too hard to make his precious boy forget. “Speak now, Louis, or so help me god.”

Twitching lips, his stomach dropped when AUstin mentioned the office, the key still held tightly in his hand. Uncrossing legs and sitting forward, he clasped hands together to stare at his dad, blue eyes matching the older one’s. If Austin thought he had the advantage at the moment, he was surely mistaken. Louis had been paranoid ever since being unknowingly drugged, having purchased a weapon at a store downtown to keep himself safe.

“Well,  _father_. I’m here because a certain curly-haired male, how do I put this.. He’s unfamiliar yet seems kind of familiar?” He got up to walk around the room, rubbing at a mark on the coffee table then reaching up to tug the little chain to turn it on, looking over at his dad, the shadows of the fireplace dancing across Austin’s face. Biting his tongue, Louis walked over to the picture, noticing he’d left it crooked and straightened it up, hiding that he slid the key back into its home space.

This being his parents’ home, he felt he could help himself to everything, so being the little shit he was, Louis walked over to the liquor cabinet and bent down to grab a bottle of Grey Goose and take a drink straight from the bottle. He was underage, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drink in his parents’ home, he’d done it before, like all teenagers seem to do.

Juggling bottle in hand, he lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in the direction of his father, squinting eyes through the grey. The smell of Chinese was making him hungry, but damned if Louis was going to stop and eat at the moment, so he decided to just drink, even though if he wasn’t careful, he’d be drunk way too quickly, drinking on an empty stomach and all. If all else failed, he could lock himself up in his childhood bedroom and sleep off the vodka.

Preparing himself, Louis took a long gulp of the vodka then wiped at his mouth, being careful not to burn himself with the cigarette. Been there, done that, bought the tee shirt, and had to explain the embarrassing looking burn to people, most of who didn’t believe him, teenagers and all.

Hiding the way his palms shook at the mention of Harry, Austin stood too and filled himself a glass of scotch, the alcohol very much needed if he was to deal with Louis properly tonight and assure all of his curiousness was squashed flat. “So Zayn tells me,” Austin murmurs with an eye roll, trying to take the friendly route as to not make Louis suspicious.

“We lived in London for years, my boy. Many people from there will probably look familiar to you. That…” Barely managing to stop himself from saying freak, Austin lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip to make the pause seem normal. “Harry kid is from London, yeah? You probably seen him around growing up.”

His stomach was rolling, sparse food fighting against the alcohol and thought of Harry and threatening to make everything shot up his throat and out his mouth. Austin wasn't one who got nervous easily, but so much was at stake right now. If Louis digged too deep, got even more curious, than those walls that Austin had put up with years of therapy and many, many drugs, would all come tumbling down and he would remember  _everything_.

The beatings, the fact that his dad was an informant for the London police department and went on the run when he'd been caught by the wrong people, and most importantly of all, he would remember  _Harry._ The kid Austin couldn't keep his son away from, the kid who was the reason behind his son being a fag. Many nights Austin would get drunk and go looking for the curly haired queer, but he could never find him alone. He was always with Louis, his family, or not to be found. He'd made plan after plan to just murder him, to end his misery and his sons, but then the police department gave him an offer he couldn't resist and he seen a way out, a way from all of the hell he'd put his family through.

Obviously he took it, and almost everything went as planned. They moved, his bank account had far more money than London pd had promised, and Des spazzed and left. Reapers soul was no longer in the UK to taint the streets with drugs or blood, and since their departure, the streets have cleaned up.  _Which is exactly what they'd wanted._ Everything was  _perfect_  for a while. The only thing Austin didn't account for was Harry making an appearance.  _He had to take care of him, once and for all._

“If that’s true, then how come I don’t recognize anybody else from London?” Louis swirled his bottle, watching the clear liquid sloosh around in the glass container. His stomach growled, the smell of Chinese was stronger and when a commercial came on for Arby’s, he couldn’t take it anymore. Setting the bottle under his arm, he walked to the kitchen, flicking the light on to rummage through the fridge to make himself something to eat. Hearing nothing behind him, he assumed Austin hadn’t followed and pulled his cell phone from his pocket to text Cole, adding a whole bunch of hearts and kissy faces in it, just because he felt spiteful, even if his dad wouldn’t see it.

Returning to the living room, he settled himself on the couch, setting the bottle on the table next to him and digging into the cold pizza he’d found. “As I was saying.. How do I know they’re from london? Because college professors seem to think we’re children and made us say our name and where we’re from. Most of the class was from Europe, London and Ireland, particularly. None of the names rung a bell.” He ripped off a piece of the pizza and shoved it into his mouth. “Oh and daddy dearest, I made the cheer squad at college. I knew you’d be proud of me.”

Whatever had been given to Louis, only affected the part that was dedicated to Harry, he was well aware that his father hated his only son and child liked the same sex ,he was a big ol homo and Austin wanted to reform him. Chomping on the chips he’d thrown on top of the pizza, he swallowed the mouthful then chased it with a sip of vodka.

While Louis was in the kitchen, Austin quickly stood and checked behind the picture, only to find the key was still there but the corner of the tape was folded in on itself. So, his son thought he was a genius? Austin could fix that real quick. Walking to the opposite side of the living room, with continuous glances thrown over his shoulder, he opened a drawer to the desk Jay mainly used for work documents and such, and pulled up the false bottom only he knew about to grab the vial the therapist had given him at Louis’ last appointment. She had made the drug herself, and Austin couldn't recall what she had called it, but he did remember he was to use it in emergencies only.

It caused the one given it to pass out, and have a sort of amnesia episode. They would forget the entire day, and in some cases, Austin could make him remember whatever he wanted him to. If he gave him a small dosage at first, waited to him to start to get drowsy, he could trick Louis’ brain into believing whatever he said, then he would give him the rest of the drugs and he would be out like a light.

Filling the needle syringe with the correct dosage, Austin quickly replaced everything and recapped the vial which he slipped into his pocket. He was just sitting back on the couch when Louis returned, eyes unknowingly finding the odd bunch in his son's pants.  _Must be his underwear._ “You didn't know everyone, Louis.” Austin said, scoffing as he rubbed his hands down his pants.

Grabbing his food, he tried sinking back into the couch and let his body relax so he didn't cause any more suspicion or seem like he was affected by this discussion. “You were a quiet kid who didn't have many friends, Louis. Harry must have sparked your interest while you were in school or something. He means nothing, and he is no one you should bother yourself with. Understood?”

Okay, so much for being relaxed. Austin was standing in front of Louis now, food deposited on the table. His hand was curled around Louis’ shoulder, holding him in place while also pushing him back against the couch to let him know he  _wasn't_ kidding. “I will not raise a cheerleading faggot, Louis. Quit the cheer team and forget about this Harry kid before you lose everything I've given you, and everything you care about. Like Zayn and Ed.”

He was expecting an attack by Austin, the man always had a reason to have his hands on his son, and it was never in a nice way. Thankfully Louis was small and able to scrunch his body up and bring feet to hit home, getting Austin where it counted and able to scramble away when his dad leaned over in pain. “You forget that Grandpa Jonathan’s money is more important than yours and he named ME in his will, not you. He was ashamed of you, I don’t know WHY exactly, but he is.” God, he hated the fogginess. Shaking head to clear it, even though drinking the vodka wasn’t exactly helping and impaired him slightly. He was done.

Downing the rest of the vodka, he smashed the bottle on the floor, narrowly missing Bruno who had wandered in at the smell of food, knowing that Austin would share it with him, the cat was Austin’s baby pretty much. The cat gave Louis a glare, or the kitty version of it and scrambled out of the room to hide, it’d more than likely come out when Louis was gone, pity partying itself onto Austin’s lap.

Being unable to remember shit made his short-term memory crap too, that’s why Louis had taken to carrying a tape recorder with him. He reached a hand into his pocket to pull it out and pushed rewind then replayed what Austin had just said. “I wasn’t a quiet kid in school,  _dad_. Shows how much you remember of me. Zayn absolutely hates you and Ed is like Switzerland, but he’d come on over to my side once I play this tape for them, but I'll trade you it for what’s behind curtain number one.” Louis jerked a thumb at the closed door of AUstin’s office, even though he had most of the papers in his pocket, he wanted Austin to explain verbally why Harry was important. He was more than just someone he saw in school, he played a part in his childhood and Austin knew why.

Leaning heavily on the arm of the couch, Austin was breathing heavily through his nose and trying to ease the pain in his balls by digging his fingernails into his palm to distract his mind. “Your grandpa's wealth is  _nothing_ compared to mine, Louis, and you know it.” forcing himself to stand, Austin brushed a hand over his bruising balls and stepped over the broken liquor bottle to come closer to Louis.

“You think so highly of your friends, don't you?” Eyeing the tape recorder, which was off and no longer recording, Austin placed a hand in his pocket and let his fingers curled around the syringe. “ _Zayn_ is on my payroll. The only reason he has stuck around with you as long as he has is because he gets paid a lot of money to keep your ass in check. And Ed is just a fucking druggy who will do anything for a fix. Don't mistake their kindness as friendship, Louis. The moment I tell them to leave, they will drop you like you're nothing and you'll be left with no one.”

Glancing at his closed office doors, Austin thanked the gods he'd been smart enough to grab the key from behind the photo and turned his attention back to Louis. “You are so damned adamant to remember a nobody from your past. Would you really be willing to throw away your family for him?” When Louis nodded, Austin growled and shoved his son back against the way, arm holding him in place and legs pinning him so he couldn't get away or kick. “He's the reason that you're a fucking queer, Louis! He's the reason I lost my little boy and got a fucking cheerleading  _fag_  who talks like a little girl and looks like one too!”

He had nothing to lose right now, could tell Louis everything and make him forget just as quickly. Pulling the syringe from his pocket, Austin closed his teeth around the cap and pulled it off, arm tightening around Louis when the boy began to squirm. “You will never know who Harry Styles is, and you will never know what he did to this family.” jabbing the needle into Louis’ neck, Austin pressed it until it was a little over half way gone then stopped, wanting to allow the drugs to kick in so he could once again bend and contort Louis’ memories, make them what he wanted.

“Ed and Zayn told me you’d say something like this, they’ve told me the WHOLE thing, father,” Louis laughed until he felt the jab of the needle. His eyes got wide and he grabbed for his pocket, sliding the knife out and using his last ounce of manpower to stab his dad in the leg with it. “Fuck you..” When he felt Austin let go, he left the knife and pushed off the man and went for the door, almost stumbling as he mis-stepped. Bringing foot up for the next step, his foot hit air and he went tumbling to the ground, smacking head hard on the marble step, enough to make him see stars.

Rolling onto his side, he groaned as the headache started in, the last thing he saw was the ugly ginger cat of his dad’s rushing over to more than likely claw Louis as his mind went to black.

Austin pulled the knife out of leg, lucky his son was a weak bitch and had only managed to embed the tip of the knife into his thigh. With blood running down his leg, and the wound throbbing, Austin limped after Louis and shook his head when he seen Louis was sprawled out on the sidewalk, at the very bottom of the stairs. “My poor baby,” he murmured, somehow managing to heft Louis’ body up and carry his dead weight into the house.

He was glad he had bought a house in a secluded area, with fences surrounding it and a gate at the front so nobody could see anything that was going on. With a blood trail following them, Austin threw Louis’ limp body on the couch before he very ungracefully dropped to a painful crouch next to his head. Petting Louis’ head, he smoothed the hair back and leaned in to whisper smooth words into Louis’ ear, repeating it over and over again until he felt like it would stick.

When Louis woke up tomorrow, he'd remember coming over here but leaving with Ed and Zayn to go to a party. He would remember drinking, would remember seeing Harry but after that it would all just be blank. Austin left room for Zayn, was going to allow the darker skinned male a chance to come up with some story to feed Louis tomorrow morning when he woke up. It all seemed too perfect, too easy.

Giving the rest of the drugs to Louis, Austin called Zayn and sandwiched the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could get to work on bandaging his leg. “We have a problem,” Austin said into the phone when Zayn answered. “Louis came here asking questions about Harry. I took care of it all, but I'll need yours and Ed’s help. Be here. I'm giving you ten minutes.”

Not one to take orders so lightly, Zayn was trapped into it by his father, who seemed to hate his guts and sold his own son’s soul to Austin Tomlinson. Why? Who the hell knows. Zayn thought he was doing well in life, he was good looking, but on an undecided path at college. He didn’t want to do what Louis was doing and go into art, he wanted something that nobody would expect him to be, so he was debating law or medicine.

FIlling Ed in on the way over, feeling slightly sorry for the ginger, who was a newbie in this game and seemed to hesitate with each decision. He wasn’t going to last long this way. The ginger nodded and followed Zayn into the Tomlinson residence, as Zayn seemed to know his way around. Leaning down to pet the cat, Bruno purred at the attention and rubbed against his leg a few times then ran off.

“The hell did you do to him?” Zayn pointed at the bleeding scrape above Louis’ eyebrow that was still oozing blood, but not dripping down enough to run into the small man’s mouth or nose.

After receiving a glare from Austin and the rest of the orders, which Zayn took with gritted teeth, the two teenagers were hauling an unconscious Louis out the front door and to the truck to lay in the backseat.

“Should I drive Louis’ vehicle back or come with you in the truck?” Ed asked after searching the man’s pockets for the car keys. He felt other lumps and stuff, but didn’t feel right about going through his friend’s pockets, so he let them be.

Zayn chewed on his lower lip. He didn’t want to call Austin for something so mundane as that, so he gave a shrug. “Do what you want. But hurry, this neighborhood is creepy as fuck being out in the middle of nowhere and the cemetery being a block away.”

Jumping into the Jeep, he started it up so headlights flooded the interior of the Tomlinson garage, Austin leaving the door open after running in, probably from seeing his son’s car there. Giving Zayn a thumbs up, the dark skinned man pulled out and led the two car parade back to the campus, Zayn being none too careful about taking the turns slowly.

“How are we going to carry him in without anyone seeing us?” Ed pulled up next to Zayn. Pocketing the keys for the time being, he glanced around campus. If all else failed, they could claim the man was passed out drunk, but Louis was also underage, which would create more problems. Fuck.

The dean had been easily persuaded to remove Desmond Styles out of the system, and replaced him with Harry. From now on, it would he Harry attending all the social events, giving the school the publicity needed while also helping funnel money into the Dean’s account. With a set agreement a month, Harry shook the man’s hand and threw in a small threat that, if Desmond was to somehow talk his way back into the man's bank account and Harry's schooling, he'd make sure the Dean didn't live long enough to watch his daughter get married next year.

Shuffling out of his office, far too pleased with himself, Harry elbowed his way past the hoard of people all congregating at the front entrance of the main building, waiting for their friends who were joining them at the party in Justin’s frat house yet again, and looked up to watch as two bright, bold neon lights were shot up in the sky. Way to keep a party, on school campus with underaged kids, quiet.

He wasn't looking to get busted by the police,  _again,_ so Harry opted out on going to Justin’s shit excuse of a party and instead began to walk aimlessly around campus. Texting Liam to meet him by the parking lot, so they could go get some food because Harry was starving, the man began to walk in that direction and, unbeknownst to him, towards a possible kidnapping scene.

When he reached the parking lot, he leaned against one of the many cars and lit up a fag. It was quiet out, with the soft hum of background music reaching his ears from Justin’s party. Taking a deep drag off the stog, Harry quickly stepped back into the shadows when two familiar cars pulled in and parked next to each other. Not in the mood to deal with drama Queen Zayn, or Louis, Harry was getting ready to drop his cigarette and step on it when their low murmuring caught his attention.

Glancing up just in time to watch as Ed climbed out of Louis’ car, Harry’s eyebrows rose as did his curiosity, and he took a few cautious step forward to listen to the muffled words Zayn was saying from his spot behind the car. He was too far away, though. Only caught a few words that were a part of a broken sentence.  _Louis, room and quiet._ Lips pursing to the side, Harry shook his head and figured they were playing another dumb ass game until he seen them haul a small, unconscious body out of the back seat.

“What the fuck? Did you guys kill him?” He couldn't stop himself from saying those words when he seen the dried blood above Louis’ eyebrow, or the way his head flopped around like a fish out of water. “Fucking morons, you need to support his neck before it snaps.”  _was he seriously witnessing this?_

Deer in the headlights looks when they heard the deep voice. Zayn dropped his end of Louis and took off running like the coward he was, leaving Ed to struggle to keep his friend from falling into a mud pile. “Fucking shit, Zayn! You’re a bitch!” He yelled over his shoulder at the departing boy as he fell back onto his butt, being the one who ended up in the mud puddle, his trousers getting soaked.

Rolling head to look up at Harry, he gave a huff and pushed himself to his feet, dragging Louis up with him, intending to sling the smaller boy’s arm around his neck and walk him that way. “Hi Harry. Louis drank too much and yeah..” He gestured to the unconscious boy, hating that he was covering up for that jackass Tomlinson. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, as Zayn hadn’t thought to let Ed know, probably was under orders from Austin not to let him know. “Thank god he’s a little guy and not too heavy.”

“Fuck off, Ed, and stay here.” Harry growled, glaring at the ginger for a second before he took off running after Zayn. Jumping over a row of shrubs, and nearly falling flat on his face when his foot caught one of the shrubs, Harry stumbled on his feet before he regained his balance. The plus of being abnormally long and having long legs is you don't run, but rather glide. What took Zayn thirty seconds to run, took Harry ten, and before Zayn could really register what was going on Harry was grabbing his shoulder and yanking him backwards, making them both fall to the ground.

Harry rolled over the top of Zayn, his hand getting squished between the man’s body and the ground before he was flipping Zayn up and over his body. The man landed with a thud, breath getting knocked out of his lungs and leaving him stunned enough that Harry was able to scramble to his knees and move to straddle the shorter male. “What the fuck did you do to him, and why the fuck did you run?”  _What was he? Captain save a ho?_

Opening mouth to say something, he watched Harry take off, figuring that the man was going after Zayn. Carefully laying Louis on a nearby bench, he made sure he wasn’t in danger of falling off then stood up to watch the taller man suddenly tackle the shorter one, making an o face. That had to hurt. Looking over at Louis, he noted the man was still silent and fished a kleenex from his pocket to put over the bleeding cut on his eyebrow.

Hearing the crunching of leaves and twigs behind him, Ed whirled, the pocketknife coming out as the soft “shing” of the blade opening was heard and he held it down by his leg. He, unknowingly, had the same paranoia as Louis, maintaining the need to be protected at all times. “Who’s there? Don’t come any clo - AH FUCK COLE!”

When the brunette came into the light enough so Ed could see him, he was startled and with a shaking hand, dropping the pocket knife into the grass and wiped hand over his face. Paranoia that AUstin was going to figure out who he really was and kill him. Shit, he was going to go gray before his time.

“You okay?” Cole asked as he came closer then saw the body on the bench. “What the hell? Louis?”

Shaking head, Ed moved to shield Louis’ body from Cole, “Turn and walk away now. You don’t want to have any part of this.”  _What was this? It wasn’t a murder or a kidnapping, it was .. fuck if he knew what it was, but it wasn’t legal, was it?_  “Louis will call you tomorrow!” He lit up a cigarette, giving Cole a look when the man stood there still. “Please? Just go!”

Zayn tried punching Harry, but had only managed to scrape his fingers against his jaw before Harry was yanking his hand down and pinning both of his arms above his head. “What the fuck did you and soul sucker do?” Harry was breathless too, trying to keep the lower half of his body pressed down against Zayn’s to keep him on the ground while the upper half of his body was hovering over the sleazy fuck, making them eye level.

“I did nothing!” Zayn hissed, trying to twist his body from beneath Harry’s but the older man was too strong, always has been. “He drank too much. Called me and Ed for a ride home, but by the time we reached him he was passed out on the sidewalk and his head was bleeding.” The only reason he was telling Harry  _anything_ was to save his own ass.

“Then why did you run? Seems a little guilty to me, Malik.” Harry was loosening his grip just a little, not fully convinced but also not willing to kick Zayn’s ass for no apparent reason. It wasn't like he didn't want to, but he wasn't going to and cause even more problems between them.

Zayn seen that Harry was giving in, felt as he began to loosen his grip and he used that to his advantage to bring a knee up and push Harry off of him, throwing a blind fist and managing to hit the surprisingly muscular body. “Because you're fucking psychotic! He's moved on, Harry! Why the fuck can't you accept that you mean nothing to him, and obviously never did. Fuck. You weren't even important enough to remember.” Now that he was free from his grasp, he was willing to talk as much shit as he wanted.

Zayn had managed to hit Harry in the jaw, but the throb wasn't even a worry, only a background noise in his head as the adrenaline kicked in. Jumping to his feet, Harry grabbed Zayn by the back of his shirt and hauled him back. “Why don't you say that to my face, Zayn? Can talk all this shit when you're running away but cower like a little bitch when I'm actually standing in front of you.” Zayn’s words had hit a spot in Harry, a very sensitive spot, but fuck it if he'd let him see that.

Dodging yet another fist, this one more calculated but still sloppy, Harry landed a punch to Zayn’s gut then brought his face down to his knee, nose hitting the bone and snapping. “You know damn well Louis didn't forget me on his own, and you're pathetic to allow Austin to continue to do what he's doing. You call yourself a friend, yet you're the biggest fucking problem in his life.” A punch to the eye and Zayn was falling back, body crumbling to the ground before he stupidly climbed back to his feet.

“You were the worst thing that happened to him,” Zayn said between heaving breaths, arm moving to wipe the blood off of his face that was now a steady stream from his nose. “You fucked with his head, made him believe you cared but you let them take him and I had to pick him back up! Me! He was broken, Harry! I was willing to do anything it took to get my best friend back. So what if it involved erasing his memories. With you gone permanently, Louis had a chance at happiness. He was doing good, but then you had to come back and now he's questioning everything!” Rushing towards Harry, Zayn punched him in the eye as he ungracefully tackled him to the ground.

Pent up anger allowed him to get a good few punches in, but as his adrenaline dwindled down, so did his strength and before he realized it, Harry was on top of him. “I didn't allow them to do anything! I was fourteen! I couldn't stop them.” The hopelessness was seeping into Harry's words, the past pain resurfacing and making his heart feel like it did eight years ago; like it was being ripped out of his chest and tore to shreds, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

The fist fight only escalated from there. Harry had a problem, a really bad problem, and when he got mad, he sort of blacked out. It wasn't anything he could prevent, unless he didn't fight. The panic and pain receded once his vision did, the only thing he was aware of was his aching fist punching any place it could reach. And by the time he was drug to the present, by a fist hitting his jaw, Zayn was nearly unconscious and blood was oozing everywhere. His lip was tore open, nose most likely broken, jaw swollen and eye swollen shut. “You were the one who helped them take him.”

Ed was watching the fight, eyes widening with every hit both boys threw. Zayn was strong, but Harry was stronger and taller and used his height to his advantage. He made a noise when a cop car entered the campus. “Pst guys.. Cease and desist, there’s a fucking cop in the vicinity!”

He got up to grab Louis and put his arm around his shoulder, dragging him into the hedges and over towards Harry. Thank god Zayn and Harry had chosen a some what secluded and hidden place to do their bidding. Louis, still unconscious at the moment, let out a loud whimper, left leg twitching as head lolled to the left, lips smacking . Suddenly, he began to cry and whimper again, eyes tightly closed as tears sprung forth from them, rolling down his cheeks and his nose began to drip.

“HarryHarryHarry… who are you, Harry?” Louis croaked out then went quiet again, falling back against Ed and slipping deeper into unconsciousness.

“Er.. you’re a medical student, right? Can you.. Check to make sure nothing’s wrong or something? I can’t bring him to the nurse and it’s not serious enough to go to a hospital?”IT was more of a question than a statement, as he cringed when drool from Louis’ mouth started running down his shirt, seeping into the material, “Thanks mate, I always wanted to feel your slobber on me.”

While the two men were distracted, Zayn got up and rushed away, being careful to watch where he was going and not rush, or else he’d fall and probably land on his already banged up face. And he didn’t want to run into the cops he’d heard someone speak of, just as a loud siren went off and the outside exterior intercom clicked to life.

_Attention students! If you’re not already, please start heading inside your dorms! Nothing to be alarmed of, just need y’all to be indoors! I repeat, go inside your dorms, stay there if you’re already inside! Thank you!_

The hell was going on?

His body was sore, and he would definitely be feeling the effects of all tomorrow morning, but Harry still dropped to his knees next to Louis and pressed to fingers against his neck, checking his pulse. It was a little slow, but was steady and didn't sound off any alarms in his head. Ignoring Zayn, who ran off like a little bitch, and the Dean speaking over the intercom, Harry grabbed Louis’ face with gentle fingers and lightly tapped his cheek. “Louis, you small arsehole. Are you awake?”

The limp body should have been a dead give-away, but apparently all common sense was punched out of Harry. When he got no response, the eldest teen huffed and fished out his phone to turn on the flashlight, amazed the screen hadn't shattered in their little rendezvous. “Hold his head up,” Harry instructed, trying not to pay too much attention to the hate he held for the ginger as he watched his fingers be replaced by shorter, stubbier ones.

Prying open Louis’ eyelid on his right eye, Harry flashed the light in front of it and was pleased to see the pupil reacted well to light, but it was blown. “Did he do any drugs tonight?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing. Wiping the drool off of Louis’ chin, Harry tried his best to ignore who his ‘patient’ was, as to not feed into anything his heart was already screaming. When Ed shrugged, and said he wasn't sure, Harry hummed and pocketed his phone.

“I'd say he just got drank too much tonight, and took a few pills. Take him to bed and keep a close eye on him. He doesn't have a concussion, but I would still have him checked out tomorrow by the school nurse. By then everything will be out of his system,” Harry could smell the vodka, it was practically oozing out of the… Kids pores. “Just let him sleep it off, and have a few advils or ibuprofens waiting for him in the morning with a glass of water.” _what did this poor idiot get himself in to?_

Louis whined loudly when he saw the light, trying to jerk his head to the right to get out of the brightness. He was trying to sleep here! A hand went up to paw at open air as his mouth set in a line and he instantly curled up in a ball to gain warmth. It was cold and he was wearing shorts and a tank top, his coat still at his parent’s house. Shivering, he felt a warm hand on his body near his mouth and instantly turned to it, purring as he blindly reached up to grab Harry’s wrist. “Cold.. want.. Warm.. cold.. Where’s harry?”

The phone in Louis’ pocket started ringing loudly, the unconscious boy opening eyes for a slight second to glare unseeing at whomever then let them close. His body was trying to fight the sleepiness, but was failing. His neck still sort of ached from the injection site, but the spot was long gone by now, undetected by the untrained eye. Ed sighed and dug out the phone to silence it, noting that the caller was Cole and glanced up in the direction of the freshman dorm, knowing the brunette was up there somewhere watching them and worrying his pretty little head off. Had he called the police?

Quickly texting Cole from Louis’ phone, telling him what Harry had said. He got up to his knees then feet, pulling Louis up with him, “Come on, Tommo. You’re going to my dorm for the night, I don’t want to see Zayn’s stupid face right now.”  _Dick.. jerk.. Fucker!_  “And you are not going to any of your classes tomorrow, if you have any. And I think the cheerleaders can do without you for one day.”

Harry was starting to question everything he's said or thought about Ed. Maybe he wasn't as bad as he had initially thought. “I'll leave you to that,” he said, reluctantly standing up and stepping back to give Ed some space. Louis was calling out for Harry, nobody could deny that, but he couldn't hold the words the drugged boy said, to heart. He was most likely calling out for something he didn't even know, someone who wasn't the man he remembered.

Calf hurting from when Zayn had tackled him, Harry held his busted fist against the side of his stomach and began to walk towards his dorm. A slight tickle down his chin caught his attention, and when he lifted his hand to scratch it, he felt some dried, and fresh, blood there. Licking over his lip, Harry winced when his tongue ran across the inside of his bottom lip and he felt all the ridges and holes from where his teeth had popped through. His lip was swollen too, something he hadn't noticed until he had nothing to keep his mind on.

Noticing the four police cars in front of the freshman dorm, Harry quickly scurried past them, luckily going unnoticed, and ran into his dorm and straight up to his room. When he was finally alone in his room, the first thing he did was take off his blood stained shirt to look at his sore torso, black and blue fist shaped bruises littering the right side. Sort of limping towards the bathroom, Harry flipped on the light and cringed when he seen his reflection.

His hair was pretty much out of the bun, had twigs and leaves sticking out everywhere, and his face wasn't any better. He had a swollen lip, bruised jaw and black eye, albeit he looked  _much_  better than Zayn. Hissing, Harry stripped from his clothes and slowly slipped down into the cold porcelain tub before he turned on the water and allowed the tub to fill with hot water. Steam rose from the bathtub and clouded the room, fogging the mirror so Harry could no longer see the reflection he has long since grown tired of seeing.

And, not for the first time, Harry was left wondering what would happen if he let himself sink down into the water and just not come back up. 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day’s weather matched his mood - gloomy, grey, and foggy as hell. Welcome to fall and hangover city, population: him, plus whomever was at the party last night. As promised, he didn’t go to classes, not that he had any, and he skipped cheerleading practice altogether not wanting to explain the cut on his eyebrow and puffy face that was now a pretty shade of green and purple.

Plopping himself on a bench in the courtyard, he bundled himself up for the chilly winds that were blowing in causing the leaves to scatter around the grass and cement. Tapping his pencil on a fresh sheet of his drawing pad, he chewed on his lower lip, blue eyes staring out at the students running past as the clocks warned them they’d be late and the others who were leisurely walking around like Louis was, having conversations with each other while sipping overly priced Starbucks coffees, probably pumpkin spice flavored. It didn’t surprise Louis when he looked down to see that he’d idly started drawing a coffee cup from Starbucks, along with the mermaid logo. Sighing, he flipped the page to another one and looked the other way toward an empty space where the bonfire had been his first night here.

Which made him think of Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. The familiar jolt in his body and the double beat of his heart told him things he should know, they held secrets that he had to unlock like a puzzle. Pressing a fist to his forehead, he started banging it against it, trying to will his mind into working again. If his brain was blocked, how did he go about unblocking it? He could go on WebMD, but that’d only give him a false diagnosis of cancer, or he could look up a local neurologist and ask them? Surely a doctor dealing with the mind would know what to do?

Why didn’t he bring his phone or computer out and just his pad?! Louis huffed as he got up from his bench and wandered back to the freshman dorm. Rushing in, he went up to his room, throwing the pad on the bed as he unplugged his laptop from the charger and pocketed his phone. He’d thrown on the same shorts as yesterday, wishing he hadn’t as the day was as cold as it looked. Whatever, he’d deal with that later.

Returning to his bench, he looked around - as if anyone was watching him, and opened the laptop to do a web search of local neurologists, noting the names and numbers on the drawing pad when a figure out of the corner of his eye made him look up. Seeing Harry, Louis froze and once again flipped to a clean sheet and started sketching the tall man as he walked across the campus to wherever he was going.

The morning greeted Harry with a killer headache, sore as hell body and too many questions he would never be able to answer. Rolling out of bed, Harry pulled on a clean blue v-neck shirt to cover his bruised and abused body, then pulled on his only pair of white skinny jeans that he had. He wasn't one that liked colors, especially white.

Not at all surprised to see his lip had doubled in size since last night -he had a problem of playing with things that hurt- and his eye was puffy and black, Harry skipped past passed the mirror with a glare and went for the kitchen, where he popped a hand full of ibuprofen and chugged a glass of orange juice. He was starving, which reminded him that he needed to go grocery shopping unless he wanted to eat a stale piece of bread with some ketchup on it.  _No thanks_.

So, after conning Liam into taking him shopping (not much could fit on his bike) Harry took them out for breakfast then made his buff friend carry in all the bags while he sipped on his iced coffee and followed after him. Today was a shit day, with shit weather, so while in his room Harry grabbed his one and only hoodie, not in the mood to put on his leather jacket because it honestly did little to keep you warm, and put it on before pulling the strings and drawing the hood closed so it covered part of his eyes.

“Come on, Li. I need some help,” the (nearly) twenty two year old begged, sounding more like a two year old than anything. He swears he's an adult though. “You wouldn't be doing anything, really. I just need-- okay, I don't want to go alone. She always makes advances and won't accept that I'm gay.” Harry was trying, and failing, to talk Liam into coming on his monthly run with him.

As a sort of side business to bring in some extra cash, Harry was an on call doctor, though he doesn't have the license yet and doesn't know half the shit he should. Nobody has died so far, and in the two years he's been doing this, he's helped a  _lot_  of people. Not just ‘normal’ people, either. But he's helped the judges who don't want the publicity surrounding their injuries, or the law men who can't go to the hospital because they were either trying to cover up something illegal, or had done the harm themselves. And he has helped plenty of people who have gotten shot, stabbed, cut, etc, and can't go to the hospital without the police being involved. He's done everything you could think of.

And every month Miss Lawrence calls him to come and patch up her son, who, like clock work, gets into a fist fight or some other trouble. This time, though, he was going to dig a bullet out of the kids ass after he'd “accidentally” fell on a loaded gun that had went off. Which, to normal people, translated to he was either dicking around and shot himself, or was sticking the gun in a place it didn't belong and pulled the trigger.

Whatever the reason, the old woman was willing to pay him two grand and he wasn't about to pass that up. “And what do you expect me to do? Fuck her?”

“The fact that you even thought that, worries me.” Nose wrinkled, Harry closed his room door and locked it before he pocketed the keys, his black leather bag full of illegally bought medical supplies resting in the crook of his arm. “Just keep her company while I fix her retarded son, yeah? That's all I ask. You don't have to fuck the old woman.”

Glancing up when he felt eyes on him, Harry noticed Louis sitting alone on a bench about a hundred feet from him, a few things nestled on his lap that Harry couldn't quite see.  _Look away_. But he couldn't. He  _couldn't_ tear his eyes away, even though he knew he should be hiding his injuries.  _Has Louis talked to Zayn yet?_

Furiously sketching as fast as his nimble fingers could, he didn’t see Zayn walk up behind him and clap a hand on his shoulder. Louis screamed and dropped the sketchpad and pencil, the latter rolling under the bench. Glaring up at his friend, he shifted to pat the ground for the writing implement, while cursing at Zayn at the same time. “You need a bell. You’re always sneaking up on me!”

Zayn smirked, but the smile faltered as he saw Harry walking by. His face still hurt from last night, the bruises and cuts on his face had been bandaged up and covered with makeup, thanks to whining to the girl he’d met on his first night here. She couldn’t resist his cute and battered face. Bingo. Wrapped around his finger. When he saw Louis getting back up, head turning to face the courtyard, he shoved the man off the bench again, causing Louis to cry out in surprise as he found himself face down in the grass.

Jumping to his feet, he looked down at his now grass stained tank top and glared at Zayn, “The fuck was that for? Now I gotta go change! Be right back!” Storming off, Louis, for the second time, headed for his dorm to hurry up and change, this time remembering to grab a hoodie to battle the weather out there.

While Louis was gone, Zayn stood there, lighting a cigarette. As a wind came blowing in, threatening to cause the sketchpad to fall off the bench, he leaned over to grab it to save it when he saw the picture of Harry. Infuriated, he looked around to make sure Louis wasn’t coming and ripped out the picture and shoved it into his back pocket. He had Louis’ vitamins with him and Austin had shown him what to say to the man after giving them to him to meld his mind. He could make Louis forget he’d even drawn that picture.

Rushing out, Louis popped his head from the top of the hoodie, hair all fluffy and sticking up everywhere as he jogged to where he’d left Zayn and his things, not realizing he’d cross paths with Harry. He couldn’t help it, he just stopped again to stare at the curly haired male, mouth slightly open and tongue ring clicking against his teeth. What the hell was it about Harry that made him like this?!

“Come on, Harry. Let's go,” Liam said, returning to his friends side after he'd walked a food twenty feet, happily chit chatting to himself before he noticed Harry wasn't following anymore. When Harry didn't budge, Liam looked up and followed his line of sight to see Louis running across the lawn, only to stop and stare at the two before he returned to Zayn. “Holy fuck! Look at his face. I wonder who did that.” Liam said, oblivious to the glares Harry was throwing until he looked back at him. Then it all popped into place. “You did it!?! Why? You told me you and Des got into a fight!”

“We did. Anne ended it before anything could happen. I beat the shit out of Malik last night because he said stupid shit,”  _he brought Louis up, okay?_ He wouldn't tell Liam that, couldn't. His friend would lock him up in a psych ward faster than Harry could kiss his own ass goodbye. On the bright side, he'd have a nice little jacket that would let him hug himself all day.  _Self love was important._

“Well, fuck him. Come on.” Desperate to get Harry out of there, Liam began to tug on his arm to pull him away until he heard shouting.  _Ohhh._ Louis and Zayn were yelling at each other, the two men too far away for any words to be caught but it was hilarious watching as Louis tried to be intimidating.  _He was so smol._

 _“_ Hey, stop. No. Not your fight.” Liam said, grabbing Harry's arm once again and yanking him back when the taller lad began to walk towards Louis, as if on instinct. “He's not yours to worry about anymore.”

When he rushed over to Zayn, he now noticed that the man’s face was also beat up. Looking back at Harry then at his friend, he raised an eyebrow. “Zee, what’s with your face? Trying to match Harry or something?” He joked, but Zayn didn’t take it that way.

The darker skinned man’s face got red and he reached a hand up to touch his busted lip and nose. He couldn’t slather the Styles’ name around school, Austin had informed them that Des may have most of the school under his thumb. So Zayn had to either suck it up or find someone who could set the nose. “Look Louis, your friend over there? He’s shit. He beat me up last night because I happened to mention your name. He  _hates_ , ya man. I swear he sees red whenever your name or last are mentioned. It’s horrible.”

Louis stomach dropped as he looked over to see Harry staring right back at him. He hated Louis? That face didn’t look like he hated anyone. “Then why’s he staring at me like a lost puppy dog now, Zee?”

“Because he’s giving you the staredown. He’s trying to be intimidating!” Zayn threw arms up in the air, he was running out of lies and needed the two men to get the fuck out of sight so this conversation could be over with already. “OK? He hates you.”

Twitching nose, Louis opened mouth to say something, reaching down to grab his drawing pad and noticed the page he’d drawn Harry on was missing. “The fuck? Did you rip a picture out of here, Zayn?”

Chocolate brown eyes went wide and he put both hands up, “Not me! Why would I do such a thing like that?”

“ _He hates you, he hates your name and such._ ” Louis mimicked Zayn’s voice then gestured to his pad. “And you hate him back so you got rid of my picture. I just drew a picture of something aesthetically pleasing, I wasn’t about to go back and jack off to it.”  _Lies, yes you were, Louis. You think Harry is gorgeous._  Shut up, brain!

A disgusted look crossed Zayn’s face at the image then he patted down his own pockets, knowing full well it was in his back pocket, which he wouldn’t be able to pull out right in front of Louis, then he’d be caught in his own lie. “Ive got nothing!”

Now it was Louis’ turn to see red as he brought a hand up to slap Zayn had across the face. It actually left a red mark on dusty brown skin, the slight outline of a hand marring the cheek. Did he really just do that?

Zayn gasped at the sting to his face, his already hurt face. How the fuck dare did Louis do that? Without thinking, he whirled around and grabbed the smaller one by the arm and pulled it up behind his back, “You little fuck. I’m already beat up by Harry and you add to it? Bitch!”

 _Oh fuck_. Liam hauled Harry back as quick as he could and had to tackle him to the ground and physically restrain him so the older man didn't beat the shit out of Zayn…  _Again._ “Harry! He doesn't remember you! Stop! You're going to get expelled!” Liam hissed in his ear, but nothing seemed to reach his struggling friends ears. Wrapping an arm around his chest, Liam grabbed his own wrist to lock his arms around Harry, and hissed in a low breath, “Do you really want Louis to see you like this? To watch as you beat the shit out of his best friend. You'll be the same exact monster you have tried keeping him from.”

That seemed to get his attention, because Harry gave up fight and collapsed back into Liam’s chest, breathes shuddering as he fought the urge to sob.  _He wasn't weak_. “Get your filthy paws off of me, I'm fine,”  _but he didn't feel fine_. Still, Harry collected himself in one deep breath and stood when Liam finally trusted him enough to let go. “Stay here, or come with me. I don't give two fucks.”

Harry made a promise to himself right then that if he ever seen Zayn alone again, his face would be the last thing the black haired male ever seen again. Not trusting himself to look back, Harry grabbed his bag off the ground and began a slow jog towards his bike, ribs aching as his lungs expanded with air and forced him to breath when all he really wanted to do was shed some blood.

 _I'll be over soon, Miss Lawrence. Make sure to keep pressure applied, and don't let him move around too much._ Harry texedt the woman before throwing his phone into his bag and starting his bike. Even though he'd given Liam the choice, he didn't plan on sticking around for a second longer so he left without him.  _So much for pretending Louis doesn't exist._ It's going just as fucking planned, isn't it?

Absolutely hating that Zayn was one of the most dominant men in the world and that any threat to him caused him to overreact. Louis was released from the hold after screaming about the pain for a good five minutes then whining when he realized it hadn’t helped his shoulder he’d dislocated. Shit, he’d have to see the nurse. Shooing Zayn away from him, wanting alone time, he gathered up his stuff and headed for the on campus coffee shop. It was overpriced, loud, and the students who worked at it were snobby, but Louis recognized a few from classes and cheerleading. He’d be alright.

“Blended caramel and chocolate anything, please. Lots of whipped cream,” Louis had briefly glanced at the menu then ran his card when the total was presented on the card reader and used his finger to sign the machine. Taking his number, he wandered off to a corner chair to sit down, when he saw Cole sitting by himself on a very over stuffed yet comfortable looking couch.

Creeping up to the back of the couch, he slid hands over the brunette’s hand, exceeding in startling the crap out of him as Louis whispered in Cole’s ear. Cole laughed and pulled the man’s hands down, patting the seat beside him which Louis gratefully took, bringing legs up to rest in Cole’s lap, the man not minding at all.

“Glad to see you’re alive and well. What happened last night?” Cole asked as he sipped on some iced tea that was a very unnatural color and smelled horrible.

Louis batted at the glass and leaned up to kiss Cole on the lips, the tea tasting not as bad as it looked. “According to Zayn, I was drunk and took too many pills. Then I managed to fall on my ass and obtain these scrapes,” He pointed at the large one over his eyebrow, pressing on the butterfly bandage. “Kiss my boo boos?”

Cole rolled his eyes and kissed the white bandage, making Louis laugh. When Louis’s number was called, he moved to get up, but Cole beat him to it, setting his tea down and rushing to get the drink and return with it.

“A gentleman. I lucked out this time.” He kissed Cole again then brought the green straw to his mouth to suck at the drink, the icy slush filling his mouth and causing a brain freeze. “AAH fuck.. When will I learn?”

Minutes turned to hours and before Louis knew it, he’d been in the coffee shop for almost three hours, chatting with Cole in between sketching the man and playing around on his computer to complete assignments due in the next few days. Cole fussed over Louis’ injuries more, promising to come by and take care of him later that night if he so desired and boy did Louis desire. He left the coffee shop a few minutes later with a big grin on his face as he headed to his vehicle. His stomach was growling for some pizza and he wanted to hit up the grocery store for some needed things.

While Louis was across town, having the time of his life. Harry was in a dusty basement, full of action figures and posters and even a castle built out of cardboard. He didn't understand how Zack got into the predicaments he did, because he was as nerdy as they came. Harry set up his little work space on a table with wheels Miss Lawrence had provided, and got to work on digging the stupid bullet out of the kids very,  _very_  flat ass.

“So, you're gay? Right?” Zack asked half an hour into the ‘procedure’. He was laid out on a fold away cot, head propped up on the back of his hands and his ass completely numb thanks to whatever shot Harry had given him.

“Right.” Harry said absentmindedly, not catching how odd the question was because he was using a pair of tweezers to try and hold the hole open while he stuffed gauze in it to try and soak up the blood. The kid was lucky the bullet had only went so deep and wouldn't do any actual damage.

Humming, Zack traced a finger across the back of his hand and winced when Harry hit a sensitive part. “Ouch, man. Careful with the goods,” glancing over his shoulder at Harry, Zack quickly looked away and gulped when he seen the older man was glaring. “Does this turn you on at all? You know, since I'm a guy?”

“Oh yes, because digging a bullet out of a morons ass is exactly what gets me hot and bothered.” Snorting, Harry rolled his eyes. “No, you idiot. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I find every male attractive, and not to be a dick, but you have no ass and I'm one hundred percent not attracted to you.”

The rest of the time was spent in silence, something Harry was happy for. His brain didn't have a chance to  _think_  while he was so focused, so he took his sweet ass time and was actually a little sad when he finally fished the bullet out. Flushing the wound, Harry sutured it up as slow as he possibly could and when he was finally done, he sighed and sat back. “You're done.” He said, tossing the plastic container with the black lid towards Zack’s head, the blood covered bullet clattering within the plastic walls. “You ever going to tell me how you get yourself into these situations?”

“Nope. My mom and I pay you enough money that you shouldn't even have to ask questions.” Eyebrows rose, Zack scrambled to his knees and winced when he stretched wrong. “You better give me something to take for the pain.” Zack warned in a low, and not at all, intimidating breath as he walked over to a golden chest in the middle of his bedroom and pulled out a brown sac before throwing it at Harry. “Another two g’s. Don't tell anyone, and you'll continue to get a nice monthly bonus.”

Oh yeah, did he forget to mention that he got money from both Zack and his mum? “Here. Take one every 4-6 hours. There’s thirty pills.” Harry said, tossing Zack a bottle of pills that literally only had one percocet 10 in it. The rest were Tylenol with the numbers filed down so you couldn't tell the difference, but wouldn't get high no matter how many you took.

Stuffing everything into his bag, Harry said goodbye and grabbed the brown sac. Shoving it into his pocket as he walked up the stairs, he listened for a second with his ear pressed against the door before he finally opened it and stepped into the kitchen. “He should be fine. I gave him a few pain pills to take, and you'll need to change the gauze tomorrow morning.” Harry said when Miss Lawrence suddenly appeared around the corner. Grabbing a box of square gauze pads, he handed them to her along with a tube of ointment.

“Thank you again, Harry.” She smiled warmly at him, her wrinkly hand grabbing his. She held it for a second, the small tremors that continuously ran through her fingers more evident now that they were curled around his. “I threw a little something in there. Not much, but enough to show my appreciation,” she said, removing her hands only to drop something in Harry’s palm. Forcing his fingers to curl around it, she smiled again and finally moved to the side. “Stop the fighting, honey. You've got a got head on your shoulders. Don't throw it away for a little adrenaline rush.”

The roll of money in his hand felt dirty, yet he still put it in his pocket and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “I will. Call me anytime, Loraine. I'd love a cup of coffee and a good chat,” he always hated himself when he said things like this, but the smile he got in return was worth the five hours in the future he would spend in torture as he nursed the cup of coffee that was already cold when he’d arrived.

Leaving just as quickly as he'd came, Harry stopped by the bank on his way home and deposited the… Four thousand, five hundred dollars into his account. “Little my arse.” Loraine always gave him more than the original agreed amount, but he didn't complain. She was well off. Her son's father had left her all of his money when he'd he passed away, even though they hadn't married. She'd spilled her entire life story to Harry, told him she'd fell in love with a married man who always promised to leave his wife and when he finally did, he died a year later.

She said she didn't regret it, though. That that was the best year of her life, and that she was glad they'd gotten that little time together. And although Harry wasn't necessarily looking for that, he'd always hoped for a love like that. A love where, no matter how little time they spent together, it still felt like forever.

In a better mood than when he woke up, Louis bounced around in the driver’s seat as he sped through San Francisco to find the nearest Whole Foods. Screeching along to Livin’ On A Prayer, he turned off his engine and hopped out, doing a little bounce as he headed for the automatic doors. Waving at the cashiers, Louis grabbed a shopping cart and headed down the first aisle. They say you should never shop hungry and that was exactly the case as Louis’ cart was filled just from going down the frozen foods and ice cream section, he hadn’t hit the soups or cereal yet, or even coffee, the one necessity in life. By the time he got to the checkout, everything was threatening to fall out of the overflowing cart, but he paid little attention as he swiped his card, the card he’d managed to palm out of his dad’s office. He had several copies kept for emergencies and wouldn’t notice unless Louis made huge purchases. He just had to wait for the right time.

Refusing the carry-out, he looped arm through the straps of the reusable bags he carried with him - he hated the plastic bags, they ripped if you looked at them funny - and hauled them to his jeep, glad he’d parked close as he lifted them into the backseat and looked down at his arms at the angry red marks the fabric made digging into his skin.

Climbing back into his jeep, he headed straight for the college. As he got closer, he called Cole to see where he was available to hang out again, but the dark haired man was heading for a four hour class and couldn't skip it.

“Ugh..I”ll see what zayn is up to then.” Louis didn’t bother to call him. They shared a dorm so if Zayn was there, he had no class, if he wasn’t then he did, easy peasy. Huffing and puffing as he carried his bags to his dorms, he cursed the stairs as he headed up them, feeling the eyes of the DA on him and offering no assistance. Thanks, asshole!

THe door to their dorm was wide open, Louis lighting up as he rounded the corner and dropped everything on the table, smile erasing when he saw how the dorm looked. It was an utter mess like someone had ripped it apart searching for something important. A puzzled look crossed his face. Zayn walked in a few minutes later, whistling under his breath like he had no idea what was going on.

“Wow. Who did you piss off, Louis?”

Stopping by Ron’s to restock his supply, Harry paid the man what he owed him and left with numerous types of drugs, medical supplies and a small hand pistol.( Ron insisted after seeing his face, and Harry didn't bother to tell him it wasn't one of Austin’s men who did it. At least not an attack Austin had planned.) He didn't know what Austin was going to do, or what the man thought he was capable of, but he knew he was viewed as a threat and Austin would stop at nothing until he was completely gone from Louis’ life, and would never come back.

Shoving the gun down the back of his pants, so it dug into the top of his arse cheek but wasn't entirely uncomfortable, Harry made a mental note to actually look at the gun later and get a feel of it. Leaving, he stopped by some rib shack and got two orders of the home style BBQ ribs that came with cornbread and potato salad -the food in America was a big plus- then he got a bottle of cheap red wine and went to Gemma’s.

“Not even going to ask,” was the first thing his sister said when she opened the door and seen all the beautiful marks Zayn had left. “Come in, but be quiet. Jake is at soccer with Myles, and Marie is sleeping.”

Opening the door for him, Gemma stepped back and allowed her brother to walk in her one story home. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was her own and Gemma sure was proud of it. It was plenty big for her and her small family. “I brought food, and wine.” Harry side, lifting the bags with a shy smile before he scurried into the dining room and set everything out on the table, along with the two plastic cups he'd bought at the liquor store. “Wine glasses are overrated,” he offered as an explanation when he seen his sister eyeing the plastic cup he was offering her, the dark red liquid nearly spilling over the brim of the cup.

Setting down at the table once Gemma had accepted the glass of wine, not without the sarcastic comment of, “You trying to get me drunk before three o’clock? Who died?” Handing over her Styrofoam container of food, Harry chuckled awkwardly and scrubbed at the back of his neck before he fixed his rings and sighed.

“We need to talk.”  _That's never a good thing to hear, let alone say._

Zayn had already informed Austin about the papers, that he had found them in his truck, more than likely having fallen out of Louis’ pocket. Dumb drunk and drugged kid. He was naive and not the least bit observant. Maybe that's why Zayn had befriended the guy in first form, he felt sorry for him.

Together the two got the groceries unpacked then opened all windows and the French doors as ventilation as they sat at the table to smoke a cigarette. The smoke alarms had been disabled so they could smoke as much as they wanted as long as nobody in the dorm tattled on them. Zayn was already on his third strike with the DA. They butted heads.

Digging out the stuffed crust DiGiorno, he preheat the oven then sat back down, blue eyes squinting. “So, did we end up at that party that was going on last night? I must have gotten blackout drunk because I remember nothing,” And the only way he knew about the party was that Cole had brought it up this morning. He himself hadn't attended as his first exam was coming up and he needed to focus on that.

 _The party, perfect_! Zayn had been racking his brain for an excuse for Louis’ memory loss. “Oh yeah. The guys hosting it poured a whole bunch of liquor in huge tubs and mixed them together. Nobody was sober at the party, except Ed,” Mentally patting himself for the quick thinking, he had his phone under the table texting Ed the story he'd just fed Louis. He didn't trust the ginger.

Gemma was terrified to open the styrofoam containers, because she was almost positive of what she’d find underneath. Whenever Harry had a problem, a really big problem, he would buy bbq ribs and would, without a doubt, bring wine too. Sliding the food away from her, Gemma shook her head and allowed her freshly painted purple nails to dig into the side of her cup, leaving half moon shapes embedded in the plastic. “No, I won't listen. You've only done this twice before Harry, and both of those times I lost you.” Naively thinking that if she didn't listen, Harry wouldn't say what he came here to say and leave, Gemma put her cup down and pressed a finger into each ear.

“Stop it, Gems. Please.” Harry begged her almost silently, heart constricting when he seen the pain he was feeling, was almost exactly reflecting back in his sisters eyes. “Just listen, please. I'm not leaving, not yet.”

She didn't want to listen, didn't want to lose her only brother, but something in his tattered face had Gemma removing her fingers. He was hurting, so much more than his body would let on. “What is it then? Come on, spit it out.” Her British accent was creeping out, ready to use in full force if she needed to become the scary British woman her mama raised her to be.

“We need to cut ties for a while. I have some people following me and I don't want them to go after you or the kids. You just need to lay low, okay Gems?” He hated himself for allowing any of this to happen, for having to drag Gemma into a fight their father had started. “And after… After I graduate, I think it would be best if I just… disappeared. For a couple of years, at least. Until I can… Get shit figured out.”

The most painful thing isn't leaving your family, it's having to watch them fall apart before you even do. If he'd just slipped away in the night like he'd originally planned, he could have saved so much heartbreak, could have prevented Gemma from looking so utterly broken, and feeling the same way he does; hopeless. “What could you possibly need to do that makes it so I can't be a part of your life, Harry? Huh? What's so fucking important in your life that you need to leave your  _family?”_

“It's not about me!” Harry shouted, hand slamming down on the table and very nearly knocking over his cup. “It's about keeping you guys safe! I can't stick around knowing I'll be putting you guys in danger. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to your or your kids because of me.”

And when Gemma set back, fuming and on the verge of snapping her brothers neck, she seen he wasn't lying, that he was honestly terrified. Her little brother was trying to sacrifice everything he had to save everything he cared about. “You aren't leaving. I'm not helpless, Harry. I can take care of myself.” Standing, Gemma grabbed Harry's hand and made him follow her down her dimly lit hallway and into an office.

It looked ordinary at first, but then Gemma flipped up a panel on the wall and typed in a four digit code and all the pictures flipped into the walls and out popped metal racks, full of guns, grenades, and rows and rows of ammo. “What the fuck? Are you the fucking terminator or some shit?”

“No, I'm not you ass. I learned a long time ago that I needed to protect myself. Dad isn't a good man, Harry. He has enemies and a lot more than you think have came after me and my family,” pulling a gun off the shelf, what appeared to be an Ak-47, Gemma tossed it to her brother and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let the motherfuckers come after us. They try to hurt my family, and they'll learn real quick not to fuck with a Styles. That includes you too. You are my  _family,_ Harry. You aren't alone.”

Stretching so his back cracked loudly, Louis wiped at his mouth. The pizza had been inhaled by both men, talking barely as they munched away, pausing to take gulps of soda. Zayn finished his plateful then passed out in his bedroom while Louis went into his own to change. The food lay heavily in his belly as he got himself ready then ran outside to do a few laps around the campus.

Zayn had been waiting for Louis to leave so he could call Austin without interruption. The papers would be returned to Austin tonight, Zayn and Ed were scheduled to come over, though Zayn had been begging for a new partner, claiming the ginger was getting too soft and too close to Louis. Ed would compromise their plan, he needed to be given the mind erasing drugs then dropped out in the middle of nowhere.

“But Louis would worry. He's used to seeing Ed on a regular basis..” Austin started.

“That's why we double dose Louis and make him forget about Ed like he's forgotten about Harry.” Zayn interjected.

Austin sighed. He was worried about the amount of drugs they were giving Louis. What if they accidentally overdosed him? How would they explain that to the hospital or cops?!

“Isn't Harry a med student? We'll make him help and keep his mouth shut, just gotta figure out what or who he holds near and dear.”

Harry has, his entire life, underestimated his sister. He never thought he'd be given a rundown of every weapon in her house, while being surrounded by ninety percent of them. In awe, and stunned, Harry barely registered walking out of the room until he was being set down in a chair and his now luke warm glass of wine was pressed into his hand. “Sip this, ya big baby. It's just a bunch of guns,” Gemma said, taking her seat across from Harry.

She was worried about him, about what he would have done to himself to protect his family. Opening her food, she tore the plastic wrap off of her silverware she'd dug out of the bag and shoveled a spoonful of warm potato salad in her mouth, chasing it with a swig of wine to help ease the sudden explosion of dill and onion.  _Not her favorite side dish, but Harry didn't need to know that._

After the two discussed a few more things over their meal, Harry left with half a bottle of wine and food sloshing around in his stomach. Feeling a buzz from the wine, and being extra cautious as he drove, Harry went back to campus and was glad to see that Liam was outside, only he was talking to a group of people he didn't recognize.

Eyebrow inclining, Harry threw his black bag over his shoulder and walked towards them, knuckles digging into the side of his neck. “Hey, Li.” He said once he reached them, pushing the hood back a little so he could see better. He'd tightened it on the drive home, the rain starting to sprinkle a little.

Liam jumped, and the group immediately started to scatter, each one of them running in different directions until it was only the two left standing there, Liam looking like a guilty puppy who had just been caught chewing on a shoe. “Damn, I know I'm ugly but I didn't realize I was that repulsive.”

“Uh, ha. Don't worry about them. They had classes.” An obvious lie, Liam scratched at the back of his head and cleared his throat. “You left before I had a chance to ask the address. How'd it go?”

“Don't lie to me, Liam. What the fuck was that?” Harry was one who didn't care for lying, and he never thought Liam, of all people, would lie to him. “We had an agreement. We don't lie to each other.”

Liam had the audacity to look embarrassed, stance changing from a man ready to fight to a puppy who had been kicked. “It was a couple of people I know. I was asking them about Zayn and Ed. Something about those two don't add up.”  _At least they agreed on something._

Shoving Liam, Harry scoffed and stumbled an inch or two, the wine apparently affecting him a lot more than he'd thought. “You're no different than them. Lying over something so stupid? Fuck off.”

Harry needed to push Liam away, too, couldn't have him hurt. What better way than to start a fight over nothing and have Liam get pissed? He had a feeling something was going to happen soon, and the further away Liam was from it, the better. The man couldn't protect or defend himself even if he'd tried.

Running backwards as a handful of people ran his way, he almost stumbled when one refused to move out of Louis’ path causing the man to jerk to the side. “ASSHOLE!” He gave the runner his middle finger then turned to face the front, not realizing he’d gotten off path and was close to meeting a tree. “Shit. Don’t want to Sonny Bono my way out of this world.” Except he wasn’t on skiis, so maybe that wasn’t the best comment? Eh. He was running on eighty percent.. Er.. 79/78/77 ish energy right now. He should have stayed back and had a nap with Zayn.

When he made a complete circle around the campus, he started to slow down. Eyeing Harry and Liam, Louis turned up his nose and pulled out phone to check messages. Nothing from Ed or Zayn, smiley filled text message from Cole with the words “C U 4 DINNER TONIGHT?” and a winky face. Giggling, Louis typed back a reply then pocketed the phone.

“Hey Tomlinson!”

Louis whipped his head to the unfamiliar voice, shocked to see Cole storming toward him with an angry look on his face. He gulped and peered down at his phone then up at the man. “H..hey Cole? I just texted yo -”

Hands grabbed Louis by the front of the shirt and he was lifted off the ground, feet barely brushing the grass. Angry faced Cole pulled him in closer so Louis could smell the mint gum he’d been chewing and the apple-scented shampoo. “Stay away from my brother. I mean it. He doesn’t need your troublesome ass around him.”

Brother? Trouble? A confused look crossed Louis’ face when he was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground and Cole walked off. Did he miss the memo where Cole was either bipolar or a skitzo? His phone beeped with another message from said man. Opening it, he mouthed over the words, almost sickeningly sweet, but out of character for the man who’d just threatened Louis.

Why did you just threaten me on campus? You literally told me to stay away from you then stormed off. WTF is going on?

Louis hit send and brushed himself off to get up, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed the embarrassment. Clearing throat, he started off towards his dorm when his phone beeped again.

I didn’t? Oh.. my twin brother must have arrived on campus. . his name’s Dylan and he’s a little bit protective. I’ll introduce you sometime?

A twin. Louis breathed out a sigh of relief. His life wasn’t going to turn into a soap opera where he fell in love with a mentally insane person. Shoving phone into his pocket to reply when he got back up to his dorm, Louis started to run again, past Liam and Harry to the football field where the cheerleaders sometime practiced while the football team did.

Liam knew what Harry was doing, or was trying to do. Rolling his eyes, he threw an arm over Harry's shoulders and steered him towards the dorms so he didn't see Louis or that Cole kid. “You can't get rid of me, Haz. I know all your tricks.” Leaning down, Liam placed a not so out of character chaste kiss to Harry’s temple and pulled back. “I got class, but I'll let you know what I find out about dumb and dumber. See ya.”

Irritated because Liam didn't seem to know when to back away and when to stay and fight, Harry flipped him off and stomped towards his dorms. Nearly making it to the doors, he was about to walk over the threshold when his phone vibrated.

_Hi, Hazzie. Remember me? Caydin? I was wondering if you'd like to catch up sometime? I'm in town for a few days. Let me know? Xx_

It was a text from his long time fwb, who he hasn't spoken to in a few months. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry smoothed his tongue over the still very sensitive cuts and winced when his tooth caught a scab. What was he playing at now? Caydin had graduated last year, and had moved on to finish schooling to become a therapist. He hasn't seen Harry or even tried talking to him since the last night they slept together, so why now?

_It's been five months. Like I would forget you. But sure. What time are you free? We can go out to dinner or something, catch up?_

Sending the text without really thinking, Harry slipped the phone into his pocket and finished the walk back up to his room. So many people were starting to resurface in his life, and he was having a hard time trying to decide who was there to actually be there, or who was there because they were hired and trying to harm him. But he knew Caydin before all of this shit even went down with Louis, before he even knew the boy would come back. Two long years, to be exact.

_Actually, I was hoping to skip over the formality of everything and just fuck? I know, crude, but it's been five months since I've been laid, like you so kindly pointed out, and I just need to burn off some stress. But dinner sounds nice, we could do that after I help build up your appetite? ;)_

For being such a soft spoken man in real life, Harry was almost surprised when he read over the text. But then again, the kid did spew some nasty shit when getting fucked that would make even Christian Grey blush.

_Straight to the point, White? I like it. Come to the senior dorms. Text me when you're there and I'll come down._

_Kk. Twenty minutes. Xx_

Grinning, Harry quickly tidied up his already clean apartment and, despite knowing the kid, hid all of his valuable things in the bottom of a shoe box he'd hidden in Hank’s empty closet. He didn't think Caydin would steall, but like he said, he didn't know who he could trust anymore. But he honestly didn't care anymore at this point. Caydin could take what he wanted, it all meant nothing anyway. Harry was just glad he would have someone somewhat normal for company, who wasn't tied up in all the Louis drama.

As Louis arrived on the football field so did the quarterback, having the same idea. He was hot and cold to the cheerleader, sometimes smiling and waving, sometimes ignoring him completely. Louis didn’t care, River was an idiot who practiced without his helmet too many times. Sprinting onto the track, he plugged earbuds into his ear to get in the groove, feeling someone behind him then to his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw River approach and keep pace with him, turning to grin at him, Louis keeping serious as he faced front again to keep running.

Annoyingly, River kept up with him. Louis gave a huff, refusing to take out the ear buds even after a light nudge from the athlete and mouthing, those would be taken out on  _his_  terms, not River’s. Speeding up to get slightly ahead, he pulled out the water bottle he had strapped to his side and took a long guzzle of the ice-cubed liquid, welcoming the icy rush in his throat and to his belly.

“What do you want?!” louis yanked out the earbuds when River came head to head with him, grinning widely and showing off near perfect teeth - Louis were better, expensive dental work paid off. “Seriously! I am not in the mood to talk, especially to your ass.”

Ever since River found out Louis was gay, like it was a secret, he’d done everything he could to mess with the cheerleader any chance he got, nice or not. He  _had_  to show off in front of his friends, after all. River rolled his eyes at the smaller guy’s shrieks and slowed down a little bit as the other did.

“Calm your farm, cheerboy. I just wanted to have a running mate. Is that okay?” River flashed his pearly whites again. Truth was, he’d forgotten his own phone in his dorm and the sounds of nature and his own breathing weren’t enough to motivate him, he  _needed_  his certain playlist. Just like he had a playlist for football, basketball, and track. Maybe he was a bit OCD. “Seriously, ya high strung.”

Screeching to a halt, Louis stared after River as he continued to run. Cheerboy? That was the best that neanderthal could come up with? Harrumphing loudly, Louis put a hand on his bony hip and jutted it out, his long shorts clinging to his legs in the cool and damp air. “No, it’s not okay. My running mate is my music, not another person, unless it’s Zayn.” He didn’t have to be a jerk like this, but River was already ruffling his feathers, making sure to get him wound up at all times.

He couldn’t let the upperclassman ruin his daily routine. Louis dropped his arm and took off running fast. River must have seen him coming because the guy took off faster than a bullet, the two racing around the asphalt track like bats out of hell. It wasn’t until Louis misstepped and face planted onto the track that River declared himself a winner, even going as far as putting a foot on Louis’ fallen body and putting hands up in the air. Unlucky for RIver, Louis had been in wrestling in high school and grabbed the guy’s leg to pull him down then rolled to cover his body with his, holding River down the best he could.

“LOUIS! No fair!” River whined. The big ol’ tough quarterback whined, actually whined. Louis wasn’t the strongest, but if he got pissed off enough, he was a force to be reckoned with. Letting River up, the footballer narrowed eyes at him. “I’m going to go shower and change. I expect a rematch later.”

Louis made the blah blah blah motion with his hand, rolling eyes. “Yeah yeah, I’ll take you down then, too. When you least expect it, River!” He slowly got up, noticing his slightly scraped up knee. Spreading legs on the grass, he pushed them out as far as he could to stretch then gathered his own stuff to head for his own dorm.

Jogging down the stairs, a little too eagerly, Harry pushed the door open and walked out to wait for Caydin, too anxious to wait around in his room until the kid showed. He honestly can't remember much about him, not that he'd ever taken the time to really ask anything besides, “You wanna fuck?” they'd agreed to keep things strictly fucking, no strings attached and definitely no emotions whatsoever.

Sitting down on the bench, Harry spread his legs and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, a lit cigarette dangling between two fingers. He hadn't bothered getting dressed up, still dressed in his hoodie with the hood pulled way too tight around his head and making his bun dig into his skull.  _Fuck it_. Pulling down his hood, Harry took a drag off his cigarette and tried to tame the flyaways.

“Hi, stranger.” Harry heard someone call, and when he looked up his eyes somehow automatically found Louis that was standing fifteen feet away, then Caydin, who was only a foot in front of Harry, anxiously rolling on the balls of his feet as he scrubbed his hands down the front of his pants.

He was a short man, with longish brown hair fanned across the right side of his face and striking blue eyes. He was petite in all the right places, with a cute little nose and pink lips that were slightly pouty. Racing down his short legs were pink and white striped leggings, paired with an oversized white sweater that hung almost delicately off of his left shoulder, revealing a span of pale skin that had golden spirals across his neck and down his right arm. It was an odd tattoo, but was apparently something he'd wanted to get and Harry wasn't one who had the right to judge over odd tattoos.  _Hello, moth?_

“Caydin,” the smile that spread across his face was genuine as he stood and pulled Caydin into a hug, nose automatically digging into the soft place between his neck and shoulder that always smells like strawberries. “You haven't changed a bit,” he said with a small laugh, pulling back to see that he still very much towered over him.

Arms still around Harry’s waist, Caydin giggled softly and stood on his tippy toes to boop his nose. “Yet you seem to have changed completely. Look at that hair! The man bun isn't my little baby anymore. I feel honored I got to see it before it reached this glorious length.”

Petite fingers hesitantly reached up to his hair, hovering there for a second before Harry nodded, giving him permission. Cautiously taking the pony tail out, Caydin stood on the very tip of his toes and practically melded their two bodies together to reach the top of Harry's head so he could run fingers through the hair and smooth the curls down and out of the bun shape. “Don't look, but why is Betty Boop over there staring at us?”

It wasn’t that Louis was staring, he had stopped and saw someone behind where Harry was standing and was shielding his eyes to see if it was Cole or his twin brother. Scowling when he saw Harry looking his way then whisper at a strange man he’d never seen before, Louis rolled his eyes and skipped past the couple at the bench toward Cole/Dylan. The look on the person’s face brightened and Louis knew immediately it was Cole, as Dylan appeared out of nowhere behind his twin.

“Cole.. and Dylan,” Louis politely greeted the twin brother. He gave Cole a cheeky grin then held hand out to the other twin. Dylan just looked at his hand then shook head, “OK..”

Cole rolled his eyes at his twin, nudging the look alike in the side, “Germaphobe. He’s worse at home.”

Now it was Dylan’s turn to roll his eyes. “Do you have to tell everyone? Jesus, Cole. You make it sound like it’s a bad thing. It’s not.”

“Mmhmm.. Mr. OCD.” Cole murmured then noticed Louis’ scraped knee and cheek. “Do I need to wrap you in bubble packaging? I swear you have a new injury everytime I see you. How’s the arm by the way?”

Louis threw said arm around Cole, pulling him in close besides being sweaty and nasty smelling, “Awesome. You nursed me back to heatlh, Nurse Cole.I owe you my life!” Batting eyes, he pressed a kiss to the blushing man’s cheek then nodded at this building, “Come now, twins. We shall go back to my place for some beverages and snacks.”

All of a sudden Louis took off running, jumping up the steps of the building then turning to where both boys were still standing, “COME ON! I got pizza rolls!”

“I have no idea,” Harry murmured, “Probably admiring you.” Lying was easier than explaining their fucked up situation, or at least trying to. Sliding his hand down Caydin’s arm, he laced their fingers and tugged him towards his dorm building. “I have-- had a roommate. Block od on the first night. Heard he's in a coma,” He said as small talk as he led them up the stairs and towards his room.

He'd texted Liam beforehand that he would have company over and to fuck off, so he didn't expect to have any interruptions. Pushing the door open, he held it for Caydin and allowed him to walk in before he followed right after him.

Nothing could have prevented what had happened after that, not that Harry would have tried. All he remembered was closing the door before articles of clothing were suddenly flying in each and every direction, then he had Caydin bent over the kitchen counter and he was fucking him from behind, long fingers laced through his hair to keep a strong grip and to stop him from moving.

The bedroom turned into the bedroom, where Caydin very skillfully placed both legs behind his head and stayed bent like a pretzel while letting Harry have his way with him. He could see the frustration in his eyes, seen the way he'd looked at Betty Boop, and most of all he could  _feel_  how so very fucking broken he was. So he gave himself to Harry, and was hoping his body would be enough to hold him together if only for a little longer.

After god knows how long, Caydin rolled onto his side, panting, and flicked at Harry’s nipple, face a dark shade of red and skin slick with a mixture of saliva, sweat and lube. “You didn't have to bite so much,” he said, though he wasn't complaining. He quite liked hickies, especially when they were happening in the moment, and he wasn't going to bitch tomorrow when he seen them. Dominance and marking one's territory was a turn on.

When Harry didn't say anything, just laid on his back with an arm folded behind his head and the other laying across his chest, leg crooked with foot resting close to Caydin’s knee, he sighed and poked one of Harry’s extra nipples. “What's on your mind?” and when he received a questioning look, Caydin swatted his chest and sat up and turned to face Harry with knees drawn to his chest. “I didn't major in Psychology because it was fun, so come on. Spill. I'll give you a freebie before I'm a famous therapist that treats a bunch of celebrities.”

Grinning when Caydin did, Harry slowly blew out a deep breath before he rolled onto his side to look up at the little weirdo. “You specialize in the humans brain and how it works and shit, right? So, tell me, how a-a.. hypothetical person… Completely forgot about another hypothetical person, when those two hypothetical people spent ten years together as friends.”

“Hypothetically speaking though, right?” Laughing when Harry nodded, Caydin hummed and tapped Harry's nose before he leaned forward and pressed a thumb behind each ear. “These are where your temporal lobes are located. Damage to either side can cause memory loss, but mainly focusing around sensory skills.” moving his thumbs to press against Harry’s forehead, he tipped his head back and placed a small kiss between his eyebrows. “That is your frontal lobe. Damage there can cause long term  _and_ short term memory loss. If your hypothetical person has suffered from any brain injuries, that could be the cause.”

“But he hasn't been in an accident,”  _Harry would know. Once he'd seen Louis again, he'd scoured the internet searching for him, and had even went as far as stalking his Facebook. There had been_ no _mention of a wreck of any sort._ “He just… He forgot. He literally has no memory of me, but remembers two blocks we'd both met when we were friends. How did he forget about me, but not them?”

 _This_ had Caydin's interest spiking. Scrambling across the bed, Caydin grabbed the notebook and pencil he'd seen on Harry's floor when they'd stumbled their way in here, and unfolded it on Harry's bruised stomach to use it as a table, careful not to press too hard. Sketching out a sloppy replica of the human brain, he circled two points in the frontal lobe and used the pencil eraser to tap on them. “Memory blockers. If you use the right concoction of drugs, you can completely block off certain neurons and even go as far as altering memories.” groaning when he looked up and seen Harry was completely lost, Caydin hit the paper with the pencil.

“Neurons are primed to fire together in the same pattern that created the original experience, and each component of a memory is stored in the frontal lobe. To affect long term memories you would need a drug like… urm…”

“Dilantin.” Harry offered. He wasn't completely stupid. He knew most of what Caydin was on about, and could follow along quite well, the only part he'd been lost at was  _how_  it could be done.

“Yeah, something like that. There's another drug we learned about that allowed you to alter those neurons, or just make you completely forget certain events. If a person were to be given enough of the right drugs, a person very well could have been erased from their memories, or replaced with another person.” Caydin threw the pencil down on Harry's chest and leaned back, trying to reign in his thoughts so he could pinpoint just one. There were so many possibilities, so many things that could cause memory loss, and he was a nerd for this kind of stuff.

“Replaced with another person,” Harry echoed, mind racing back to Zayn and Louis. They seemed like close friends. Was it possible that he  _hadn't_ been erased from Louis’ mind, but rather replaced? “But drugs wouldn't be enough. They would have needed a  _very_ skilled therapist to help them, and would also need to continue administering certain drugs to keep the memories from coming back.” Pausing, Harry suddenly popped up. “Wait! Could the memories be returned to their original state? Could all of this be reversed?”

Nodding along to what Harry said, Caydin ruffled his own hair and cringed when he felt it stand up from all the sweat. “It can happen, yeah. He would definitely need to stop taking the drugs, and something would need to trigger him into remembering everything. Rather it be you, a certain place, or even something as small as a smell from your childhood. The fastest way would be minor trauma to the brain, like a little bump or something.”  _The only problem now was Harry finding out who was giving Louis the drugs, because he was almost certain the boy wouldn't take them by himself_.

Unless… He'd truly wanted to forget Harry. What if he had this all backwards, and was blaming Austin for something Louis may have wanted? “Well, fuck.”

Turns out taking both of them back to his place wasn’t a good idea. Dylan noped out after ten minutes of being there, and after meeting Zayn, who had the same stubborn attitude as the newest twin, so they butted heads, already sworn enemies or something. Zayn simply rolled his eyes and locked himself into his room to do whatever Zayn did when he had free time, Louis didn’t really want to know, either. Some things were better left to yourself.

A fast shower and change of clothes and Cole and Louis were in the Jeep driving to downtown San Francisco again. Learning that Cole and Dylan weren’t natives to California, having grown up in Omaha - Louis instantly getting jealous because he missed snow and cold weather, though he was amused by the midwest accent Cole possessed, who in turn pointed out the slightly British accent Louis had.  _Accent? What accent? I’m American!_  Louis had learned very quickly how to sound more American than British, even if the girls thought his native accent was truly adorable. Whatever that meant.

The two spent the afternoon shopping at one of the many farmer’s markets the city had to offer, while giving Cole a kind of guided tour of San Francisco, pulling up to the bay to point to where Alcatraz was, promising to take the brunette there one day for a ghost tour, maybe when Halloween came around? Besides being an art nut, Louis loved ghosts. He loved scaring the crap out of himself with Netflix horror movies then laughing as he tried to fall asleep that night and being unable to. He’d had many sleepless nights because of this, especially when Blair Witch came out.

Kneading at the feet placed in his lap, thankfully he'd put on pants, Harry bit down on the piece of chicken he was offered and nudged Caydin with his own toe. “You never told me where you moved to,” he said once he swallowed, shaking head when a straw was shoved towards his mouth.

“And you never told me who did that to your face, or your poor, poor body.” smirking, Caydin shrugged and popped a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, eyes not so subtly skating over Harry’s bare chest and torso, tongue snaking past his lips to swipe across his bottom lip. Even bruised and beaten to fuck, he was still  _hot_.  _Thank god for kfc and hot men that like to have pissing matches._ “We all have our secrets, Harry.”

“So it's a secret where you live?” Snorting, Harry pushed the feet from his lap and glanced at the screen playing some sappy ass movie Caydin had picked. “If you must know,  _doctor._ It was Zayn who is a literal nobody.” Standing, Harry gathered up the empty boxes and containers and took them to the kitchen. Throwing them away, and grabbing himself a bottle of water, Harry avoided his previous seat and instead took one on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the tv.

Scoffing when Harry didn't sit next to him, Caydin threw his food on the table and fixed his sweater. Yes, he'd gotten dressed because Harry had volunteered him to go get food. “I moved to Texas. I wanted to get away from my family but still be close enough to return for visits. Hints as to why I'm here.” Folding arms across his chest, Caydin used his toe to press the mute button on the tv remote when he seen the look Harry gave him.“What, mister billy bad ass, were you afraid I'd come back to admit my undying love for you? Honey, please. You don't do the love thing, and I  _definitely_ don't do the boyfriend thing. They're too needy. And whiny.”

Sipping at his water, Harry shrugged but didn't comment. It wasn't that he didn't do the love thing. He just hadn't found the right person to change that. Actually, he couldn't exactly take his heart away from the land of memories it lived in. It was feeding off the love he'd once felt for somebody, and refused to sway or change course just because Harry's brain had. “When do you leave?”

“Tonight or back to Texa--- SHIT! It's already nine? I have to get home. My mom wanted me there at eight.” Apologizing profusely, Caydin gathered his things and made Harry walk him down to the parking lot because it's what a gentleman should always do. Giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, Caydin promised that he'd see him again tomorrow when Harry was done with classes, then he was pulling out of the parking lot and leaving.

Despite the fact that their relationship was pretty much just sex, Harry still felt like everything wasn't falling to shit anymore just because he'd spent two hours with Caydin. He wasn't in love with the kid, far from it, but something about him always made Harry feel light and fuzzy, carefree and grounded all at once. Their little conversation had done so much for him, and also helped him realize Louis wasn't… He wasn't hopeless. He could, maybe, remember Harry one day…. Which meant he'd also remember the last words the angry fourteen year old boy had yelled at him.

_“I hate you, Louis Tomlinson! I never want to see you or your stupid family again! I hope you leave and never come back. Better yet, die!”_

He was a confused teenager who had just begun to figure shit out and actually  _enjoy_ living, and then it was all tore from him and Louis didn't fight.  _Fuck._ He didn't fight for Harry like Harry fought for him.  _Had he even cared?_

“Lots of haunted places in San Fran then?” Cole asked.

Louis blinked, forgetting he was not by himself and turned to face the brunette, “Probably. I haven’t properly researched it yet beyond Alcatraz.” He nodded in the direction of the isolated island. “And, I’m not a big boat person, so, I also haven’t gone out there yet.”

Cole went quiet again and Louis glanced him. The brunette was on his phone, a search engine by the looks of it as Louis got closer to nose into his business. He was right, Cole was searching for haunted places in the area. The amount of results made Louis’ stomach twist as he grabbed the side of the phone to get a better look,

“The San Francisco Art Institute? I’ve been there multiple times! Ooh, we are so going ghost hunting in October.” Louis squealed, taking complete possession of the phone and scrolling through the website. “A college, lots of hotels, a whole freaking neighborhood? We’re going to have to put aside a damn week for this!”

Cole laughed then stopped suddenly, nudging Louis and pointing at a man standing amongst the crowd, being none too sneaky about looking at them. Louis squinted at the man, but he was gone just as Cole had motioned for him, but it’d looked like a guy who worked for his father, a Richard Bellman, whom had supposedly been killed last year in an auto accident in Seattle.

Suddenly Louis didn’t want to be here anymore. He tugged at Cole’s sleeve and whispered in his ear that he wasn’t feeling that great and could they go back to the college? All concerned, Cole lead them back to where the jeep was and offered to drive, Louis gratefully handing over the keys as he sat in the passenger side contemplating what he’d just seen.

Looking down at his phone, thumb hovered over the contacts button as he finally pressed it then scrolled down to his dad’s name. He hesitated, did he call him or message him? Darting eyes to Cole, he decided to message him, whatever this was, he didn’t want Cole involved.

_Hey dad. Are you sure Richard Bellman is dead? Or maybe he has a twin?_


	5. Chapter 5

Harry doesn't really remember much from that morning, after the phone call. He remembers waking up to his alarm going off, and after he'd hit the snooze button he rolled over and hugged his pillow to his chest. The birds were chirping outside, barely heard through the French doors covered by thick black curtains. The laundry room three doors down was busy with activity, the constant hum of the drier spinning and thump against the wall when the washing machine become unbalanced and smacked against the thin, paper walls.

He'd thought it was impossible to get the last ten minutes of rest he'd deserved before attending classes, and for some reason that was proved correct. He thought it was his alarm going off again, and first, but through eyes barely cracked open he seen his sisters name light up his screen, the annoying generic iphone ringtone making his ears buzz. Groaning, he thrown his pillow at the wall and reached blindly for the phone, lips parting to yell at his sister for calling him at an ungodly hour.

“You fucking piece of shit! They took her! Who the fuck is after you, Harry? They took her!” She sounded hysterical, yet her voice was still just a low volume, background noise ringing in his ears until her words finally  _registered_.

“What are you talking about, Gems? Who took who?” his voice was thick and raspy, sleep clinging to it like it was to his eyes he was trying to scrub awake. Bolting up in bed, and feeling as his stomach twisted with truth he didn't want to know, Harry fell out of bed with the blanket still wound tightly around his waist and nearly tripped over the thin, cotton material. “Gemma! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You just came here last week rambling out of your arse about some guy being after you, and now my daughter is gone. Who the fuck took her, Harry! I swear to god I'm going to fucking kill you.” Her voice was raspy, too, the pain and fear clinging to her words like sleep was to his.

Pulling on jeans as fast as he could, Harry slipped his feet into his black boots and tugged a shirt over his head. “I'll be over soon,” he said, hanging up the phone. Fire sizzled through his veins, ice clogging his heart and forcing it to try and beat when the cold fist just continued to grow tighter, squeezing it until breathing became hard.

He didn't even really think about grabbing his cut, yet when he left his dorm it was thrown over his shoulders, leather jacket covering up the fact that it was sleeveless. He hated wearing this thing on school grounds, yet today it seemed to fuel his anger, to awaken the dormant part of him that had once thirsted for blood, for chaos. And it all came from a simple leather cut with blue, red and orange flames licking up the back with a skeleton figure on a motorcycle, the flames shooting out of the endless pits that were once eyes, and a scythe resting against his side, blade hanging over his head that seemed to glow from the painted fire. And above it, in big, bold letters written in Desmond’s handwriting, was, “Reapers Soul.”

He didn't plan on actually going to Gemma’s, at least not anymore. Instead, his legs carried him towards the dorm room he has avoided for weeks, tried not to even think about even though the room was directly across from his, and if he'd just opened his balcony doors he could look into the others man's life. His fingers curled into a fist, and before really even registering what he planned on doing, he was pounding on the door. “Louis fucking Tomlinson, open the door!”

Awake at six a.m., Louis had Netflix hooked up to his television, an unexpected gift from his father. Not that he was going to complain, he did have a laptop to watch it on, but the television was nice. Currently, he was streaming  _The Office_ , despite the show being over and this being complete re-runs, it was all new to Louis. The pounding on the door made Louis jump as he rolled from his bed where he was lazily curled up in the covers, not having a class until ten a.m, then trotted over to the door on bare feet.

“Dude. The hell is your malfunction?” Louis popped his head out, seeing most of the hallway were also doing the same, curious as to who was screaming this early in the morning when most of them were trying to sleep before their class, or had the day off and were trying to sleep in favor of getting anything done productively. “And how about you get your ass in here? There’s too many ears and eyes listening to us now.”

Louis grabbed Harry by the sleeve, ignoring the leather jacket and the emblem on the back. He also fought the urge to roll his eyes. Badass because he’s in a biker gang with a leather jacket? Please. Pushing the door closed behind them, he put hands on his hips, not welcoming Harry any farther into the dorm, he had one just like it, he knew what it looked like.

He made a motion for Harry to start talking as he reached for the remote on his television to pause the show. He’d get distracted staring at it while Harry just chattered away, better to be attentive  _then_  rush Harry out, not that he’d get anything out of what Harry said.

“So, talk. Why are you so hyper about?”

Louis had changed so much since he'd move, and Harry had to remember that he didn't know who he was, who Gemma was, what kind of life they lived and what he was being hidden from. “Your father, where is he?” He tried to keep his voice calm, controlled, but the panic seeped into his tone. Austin was a sick, control freak, who was a little too keen on his son forgetting about their fucked up past, but he didn't think he'd go as far as stealing an almost two year old.

Harry didn't even know what he'd done now, what had caused their sudden interest in his family. He backed off Louis, kept his distance and made sure if he seen him  _anywhere_ on campus he turned and went the other way. Watching the boy from a distance was an entirely different thing though. He didn't  _try_  to make Louis remember, just simply let himself remember everything for the both of them. Christ, the old Louis would hate all of this, would hate himself and would, with Harry right alongside him, turn the world upside down to find Gemma’s daughter. He'd loved her, admired her, and in the same breath he'd loved Harry.  _He's not that boy anymore_.

Instead he's the type they used to make fun of. Louis made Harry swear that if he ever became a cheerleading bitch, that he was put into a mental institution and kept there until the evil witches spell wore off. “I-I need to speak with your father. Please?” _he would go with threatening if nothing else worked._ Then again, each second wasted here could potentially mean a second less for his niece, and in the end, that second could have been the second that saved her life.

Blue eyes clouded at the mention of his father. Shaking head, he looked at his phone on the desk then walked over to pick it up. Thumbing through his recent calls, he found Austin’s number and pushed CALL then held the phone out to Harry without a word as he settled for walking into the kitchen and turning on the keurig to make himself a cup of coffee.

Not even trying not to eavesdrop, Louis hurried with what he was doing, making as little noise as possible as he walked back into his room, pink tongue darting out to lick at the drop of creamer on his hand, the tongue ring clicking against the ceramic mug of it. If something epic was going to go down, he wanted a front row seat, maybe it’d give him a hint as to what the hell he was missing. He hated feeling the void in his brain, there was something that was supposed to be there, but what? Who had robbed him of his thoughts?

Shit. HIs vitamins! Louis jumped up, setting the coffee down to grab his bottle from the counter next to the machine and shook out a couple then walked back in to swallow them down with coffee, blue eyes staring up at Harry then at the television screen, the characters still frozen on the screen.

A phone call was better than nothing, and Harry certainly wouldn't bitch. If he'd went where Gemma wanted him to, he wouldn’t even have this little bit of hope to get information. “Hia, Austin? Remember me?” He kept his voice low, not wanting Louis to hear what was going on because, regrettably, Harry was still going to keep him out of this.

“You have something, or rather someone that doesn't belong to you. I want her back, now. No conditions, no threats. That, or your precious little boy will be given a serum to counteract all the fucked up shit you've been given him,” he was lying through his teeth, but if Desmond has taught him anything, it was how to keep everything hidden and to know _how_  to tell a good lie, and one that  _could_ become true if you didn't get what wanted.

“Harry, Harry, Harry. Surely you're smarter than that. You don't know  _what_ is coursing through my son's veins, and you're a smart boy. You give him the wrong thing, and you know damn well it could react with the other drugs and kill him. You're reckless, but my son means too much to you.” Leaning back in his chair, Austin folded his hands on his stomach, steady eyes focused on Zayn and the toddler, making sure they didn't leave his sight. Ed was in the corner of the room, drugged out of his mind and not a single thought going through his tiny brain. “So, I'll tell you what. I  _will_  make a condition. You get your niece back if you hand yourself over. Simple as that.”

Turning up to look at Louis when he'd walked back into the room, Harry forced himself to swallow even though his throat was swelling shut, constricting because he knew the only real leverage he had was the boy standing in front of him, clueless to everything around him. “Your son will be with  _my_ family. If you fall through with your deal, I'll make sure you never see him again.” he hissed, voice still quiet enough that Louis didn't hear. Throwing the phone against the wall, Harry threaded fingers through his hair and tugged before he growled, loud, and began to pace.

“I need you to go with Liam, Louis. You don't know what's going on, but if you don't I'll lose my niece and you'll lose your father.” Repressing the urge to just punch the closest thing, which just so happens to be Louis, Harry closed his fingers around his own phone and dialed Liam’s number, hands shaking and small cracks running through the screen as he unwillingly began to break it-- fingers crushing it and he hoped to god he at least got to make this phone call before it completely snapped.  _fuck, where did Austin live?_

While Harry was making his phone call, Louis was on his actual phone, the one Harry was using was the burner, nobody ever touched his real one. Picking up the coffee to take a sip, he licked over his lips then typed out a careful message to Cole, adding an obnoxious number of emojis behind it because the caffeine had kicked in and Louis needed to go running around to blow it off.

Rolling blue eyes up to meet Harry’s green ones, he scoffed and pushed SEND on the message then looked at the curly haired male, “I ain’t going anywhere with Liam. Fuzzy haired freak. He screams pedo.” WHen his phone beeped, he held it up to read the screen, all it was was Cole saying he was headed to class and would see Louis later at dinner, followed by a kissy face and a moon. Their signature for each other meaning they liked each other to the moon and back. It was their thing.

Chewing on his lip, Louis swung his feet back and forth to watch Harry, while at the same time, checking his Facebook feed for anything new and exciting.Same shit, different day. Boring. College was supposed to be fun, wasn’t it? Checking the time, a groan bubbled from his lips when it was only 8:45. An hour and fifteen until his class. What else could he do to kill some time? Get Harry the hell out of there so he could finish watching his show? Yes, that would do.

“Listen, dick. I’m glad you came to visit me but your time is up and I need some me time. It’s not you, it’s me. Really.” Louis got up and walked over to the door to pull it open, pointing out just as the person across the hall opened the door to exit. “Hi Malia. How are you today?”

Malia was a tall, ginger haired girl with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. She reminded Louis of the mascot for Wendy’s, but said nothing, as he doubted he was the first one to see that. Waving shyly, Malia turned to lock her dorm door, hike up her messenger bag then scurried past them and down to the staircase.

So threatening it was. Phone forgotten, Harry grabbed the door, the front of his body pressed dangerously close to Louis’ back, and glared at the ginger before he forced the door shut and kept his arm there so Louis couldn't open it. The bottom of his bicep was brushing the top of his head, memories threatening to resurface but now  _definitely_ wasn't the time. “Listen, Louis, I know you don't really give a shit about people trying to act tough, and you don't take threats seriously, but I promise you if you don't come with me, and I don't get my niece back, any threats I made won't matter,”  _he can't threaten him, he can't do it. This was Lo--_  “Because I'll make damn sure you don't live long enough to question whether I'm being serious or just an ass who doesn't follow through.”

The words fell out of his mouth like vomit, but came out strong, unwavering, speaking a lie that was covered with a truth to protect his family, the ones he loved and cared about that  _actually_ remembered him. “So you either have one of two choices,” leaning down so his lips were just inches from Louis’ ear, but far enough so that if the boy decided to try and headbutt him Harry would have time to react, he whispered the words he'd never thought he'd say to Louis, “you can come willingly, and save both yours and your father's lives, or I'll drag your ass out of this dorm room and personally deliver you to my father. Understood?”

Imagining he was someone else was easier said than done. If he only paid attention to the way his body felt against his, it would be easy to forget who he was. His body had grown, curves took over the once flat places and flimsy muscles replaced the ones him and Harry had worked so hard for him to get. Day after day they'd worked out, rather it be with their fathers weights or sacks filled with rocks, but apparently their routine was another thing Louis didn't want to remember. But with all of those differences in mind, he  _couldn't_ get that damned vanilla scented shampoo and body wash out of his nose. It was clogging his airways, making his vision blur as it swimmed through his veins, and it was almost whispering a word he so desperately wanted to tell Louis;  _Remember._

“No,  _you_  listen, Harry.” A small hand went out to grab Harry’s throat, having to stand up on his tiptoes in order to do it, squeezing tight, “Don’t .. tell me .. what to fucking do, alright? I’m sick of you always doing that!” It was like a new Louis ( or old ) had come through again, a memory sparked in an otherwise dormant section of his mind labelled CHILDHOOD. Suddenly he saw the two of them by a tree house, expensive looking with a slide and climb wall and everything. Louis was standing there with a thumb in his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks as Harry got mad at him and threatened to rip the head off his G.I. Joe.

_“You betta’ nawt, I’ll tell ma mum!” Louis whimpered._

_He couldn't’ remember what they’d been arguing about, but Harry had gained control of the toy and sure as shit, popped the head off and chucked it into the tall weeds behind them. Louis should have expected that, but he started wailing anyway, falling onto the ground on his heavily padded bottom as Harry stood there, staring at the toy. Did he feel regret? Louis didn’t know and still didn’t know to this day._

Shaking head, Louis gasped in a breath and pushed Harry away. Running for the window since the taller man was blocking the door, he pushed open the French doors and jumped out. Just like his stupid move at cheerleading, he felt a slight crunch and should have fallen down, but chose to get up and hobble away on a sore ankle towards Cole’s dorm.

Harry didn't know what had happened, what made the fingers around his throat suddenly retract or why Louis had decided to jump out the window. Whatever the reason, he followed behind him, landing on his feet and managing to stick the landing rather than snap a bone or tumble and fall. “Louis! Wait! What happened?” He yelled after the figure quickly limping away. “You remembered something, didn't you?”

He knew he should be worrying about his niece, but at the moment Louis seemed to be the only thing his mind and heart were screaming. If he remembered…. But it was impossible? Wasn't it? With the cocktail Austin was giving him, shouldn't the memories be buried too deep for something as simple as him threatening Louis making them resurface.

“Harry! Gemma called. She's on her way, and she sounded pissed. What's going on?” Liam suddenly stepped in front of him, forcing him to come to a halt and let Louis limp even further away from him.

“I-I have to go. Watch Louis, make sure Zayn and Ed don't go anywhere near him. I'll explain later,” and despite the sudden need to know what Louis had remembered, if it was enough to make them not complete strangers anymore, Harry took off running, the need to  _help_  his sister stronger than anything else. This was all his fault, anyway.

Not making it to whereever he was going, Louis fell to the nearest bench and brought his foot up. Pulling his sock down, he hissed at his rapidly ballooning ankle. Another reason for the cheerleaders to be pissed off at him, but as he turned back to watch Harry run off and Liam start for him, did Louis sob, hand pressed to his mouth.

 _“Harry_ ”

The flashback had opened him. With shaking fingers, he picked up the phone he’d had in his hand the entire time, scrolled through the phone book and pushed CALL. Then he remembered that letting his dad know about this might not be a good idea. Harry was in distress over someone having his niece - his dad? - and learning about this might cause Austin to cause harm to the little girl. Sitting up, he pulled at his hair, pressing lips together as he fought the urge to just scream out loud. Where the hell were his friends when he needed them?!

Just like that, Zayn appeared. He’d headed straight over after Austin had received the call from Harry. Both of them intent on harming someone and even though Zayn was never actually what you'd’ call a  _friend_  of Louis, the kid was growing on him and he’d rather see harm come to the curly haired one than the shorter boy. Speaking into the blue tooth attached to his ear, Zayn confirmed that Louis was safe and sound on the college campus and that Harry was nowhere to be seen. His back stiffened when he caught an eyeful of Liam, relaying that to Austin who told him to just ignore the doe-eyed one and focus on his son. Was he okay?

“Zee, I think I broke my ankle.” Louis whined. He saw Zee’s lips moved and immediately, a hand flew to his ear. Had he gone deaf too?! But, he’d just heard himself speak..?

Zayn finished his conversation with the senior Tomlinson and pointed at his ear. “Bluetooth, Lou. Mom called to check up on me. Parents.” Exaggerated eye roll as he plopped down next to Louis. “So what happened?”

With a quick phone call to Ron, Harry had Austin’s address. He'd told the older man it was just information he'd needed, that there was nothing to worry about and he definitely didn't need to follow him. The words fell on deaf ears, however. Ron knew of the entire situation, had Gemma on hold on the other line and with a quick, “Be careful, lad,” he was hanging up with Harry and switching over to Gemma, warning her that her brother was about to do something completely idiotic and possibly suicidal.

Swerving in and out of the lanes, Harry ignored the traffic laws, brain set on over speed and making it impossible for his eyes to just focus on one thing, or for his hand to stop pressing the gas further and further, accelerating it until the trees were just one giant blur and the cars next to him were gone just as quickly as they'd come. Rides like this were usually so calming, so freeing. When you were moving fast enough, if felt like you were outracing time and that it would never be able to catch up to you again.

When he pulled on to a street with a single house on the corner, and then another a good block away, he knew he was getting close and his palms began to itch in anticipation. With tires squealing against the asphalt, smoke rising as he burned the rubber, Harry jumped off his still moving bike and let it clatter to the ground. He was so close to Marie, he could feel it, but wait… Fuck. How was he going to make sure she got home safe?

Just then his phone rang, and Gemma’s face lit up his screen. He debated answering, but the feeling in his gut curled his intestines and his thumb slammed down on the little green button. “He-”

“They brought Marie back! Don't go there, Harry. It's a setup!” Gemma scream into the phone, words rushed.

He didn't get a chance to answer, because not even two seconds later three black suv’s were pulling up behind him and he was suddenly surrounded, black suits filling his vision as hands groped and grabbed at his body, each one fighting to get a better grip on the limp limbs. No point in fighting, now. Marie was safe. That's all that mattered.

His phone was hit out of his hand and fell to the ground, followed by a heavy boot stomping down on it and completely breaking the screen. Well, good. Gemma didn't need to hear this. “Harry Styles,” one of the men purred in an american accent, one he didn't recognize but knew it was from some hick town no doubt. “Mr. Tomlinson has been waiting. He'll he pleased that you made it.”

Just as soon as Zayn started to speak to Louis, did a call ring out in his blue tooth. Putting a finger up, he tapped the button to answer, face immediately paling as he took off running for his truck, instead of continuing the conversation with Louis. Curious, Louis got up, his ankle protesting against the weight he was putting on it as he hobbled behind his friend, Ducking down when Zayn turned to face the quad, brown eyes scanning the area, probably looking to see if he was still sitting there.

“... Styles at your place? Got it.”

Louis’ eyebrows jutted up when he heard the name Styles.  _HarryHarryHarry!_  His heart screamed as his mind was puzzled. The flashback didn’t help  _at all_ , he was still confused. Jumping up when he heard the truck speeding away, the diesel engine gave it away, he limped to his jeep and climbed up. Shit, he’d have to drive with his left foot. Ah well, no pain, no glory, right? Shit, he was going to die wasn’t he?

Heading for his dad’s, he parked a block away by the cemetery. Shuddering at the idea of the graveyard, he crossed himself twice and slid out, grabbing his gun and knife, the former going down the back of his pants like he’d seen baddies on television do.

Knowing the area well, Louis broke through the forest of trees, ducking down just in case someone was in the back area of his father’s house and looking out the windows. Counting to three, he quietly undid the simple latch on the screened in porch and let himself in, closing the door slowly so it didn’t slam. Hearing voices, muffled, but it was Zayn and his dad’s, along with a few others, he headed towards them.

“Now that we got Styles, what should we do with him?” Austin was asking, looking down at the crumpled heap that was Harry. His men must’ve done a number on him. “Suggestions?”

Harry felt like he was underwater, the water trying to expand his lungs and words muffled. Apparently giving in instead of fighting pissed them off more, and when they got pissed off they didn't hold back. His ribs were most likely cracked, a stray piece of bone gliding across them to create a wheezing song that had his lungs screaming with each breath. He'd never kicked anyone with steel toed boots, but now he knew to if he wanted to cause serious pain.

Wiping the blood from his brow, keeping his movements to a minimum because he didn't need them knowing he was conscious, Harry cracked an eye opened and got a face full of feet.  _Great_. Ears ringing, he tried to ease the pressure off of his lungs by shifting just a little, but the movement was mistaken as a twitch and one of the men put his heavy foot on his back, holding him down.

“Well, sir, we could do what we discussed last week?” Zayn said, brown eyes floating over to Ed who was still as gone as ever, pale fingers wiggling in front of his eyes and he mumbled to himself. “He's a danger to Louis. I fear he isn't strong enough mentally to do this, and that his weakness will affect Louis and his memories in the end.” Zayn was spouting bullshit, he knew that, but he didn't like Ed. He was a people person, and liked Harry when he was the main problem here. He couldn't have the ginger ruining this all, especially since Zayn has worked so hard to help get Louis where he's at.

Eyeing the body on the floor, Austin walked a complete circle around Harry before he paused by his head and crouched. “We've lost the leverage we had. What makes you think he'll do anything?”

“He cares about his family. It wouldn't be hard to persuade him into doing something when he knows how easily you have access to his family,” Zayn said, keeping his eyes off of Harry. He couldn't stand looking at him, knowing that this man was still… After Louis. The boy was his to do with as he pleased, and if Harry didn't agree to do what needed to be done, Zayn wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back. His face had almost completely healed since last week, and he was itching to give the same marks to Harry.

Lacing his fingers through Harry's hair, Austin jerked his head back and grinned when he seen those emerald orbs pop open. “You've always been horrible at faking,” grinning, Austin jerked a little harder. “So, Harry, what do you say? Help me and protect your family? Or watch as your family drops one by one?”

Quiet as a church mouse, Louis took off his shoes and crept across the carpet on tiptoes, trying to fight the urge to let out a howl when he put weight on the sore ankle. Cursing quietly, he took the side hallway to the living room, the one that was hidden off the main path of the house and his dad rarely used, actually, Louis didn’t think he ever did. Right as he ducked down, Louis heard a growl. Shit, he forgot about the demon cat.

“Shoo! This doesn’t concern you, Satan!” Louis hissed at the ginger cat as it kept advancing, back rising and hissing coming out of it. “You’re declawed and de-balled, you’re not a tough guy. Ken is tougher than you.”

The cat was very close to Louis, threatening to bring a paw back and striking unarmed. Rolling his eyes, Louis waited until the cat was in the middle of the rug to yank it out from under him then throw it over the animal to disorient it. Back claws skittered as it ran away, momentarily blind and yowling because it couldn’t see. Stupid cat.

Both eyes widened when he saw Ed laying there too. Scooting closer, staying near the wall and behind the couch, he got toward the ginger’s foot and gave it a tap, “PSST ED.. Ed, can you hear me?”

The ginger jolted up and looked around, then went back to his own little world. So much for that. Leaning down, he grabbed one of the cat toys within reach and chucked it over the couch into th front hallway, the noise catching the attention of father and men.

“Go check it out, dumbass.” Austin growled.

Louis peeked around the couch to see if any of the guys were armed. Feeling his own gun down the back of his pants, he wriggled to keep from sitting on it, least it discharges by accident. He kept it in his vehicle, he didn’t want a loaded gun around where he slept, ate or socialized.

Harry wasn't as oblivious as the other men, he'd seen Louis, watched as the boy tried to creep around in the shadows and remain unseen. He was good for the most part, had somehow remembered the days him and Harry used to pretend to be ninjas, or at least he remembered how to sneak around and go unnoticed. Watching as the men scurried like cockroaches as soon as Austin opened his mouth, Harry snickered and pushed himself up, trying to draw the attention to him to give Louis a chance to hide, or run or just do something so his dumbarse didn't get caught.

“And what is it that you need?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes from darting to where Louis was hiding. Didn't need to cause anymore suspicion, so he kept his green orbs locked with Austin’s, showing he wasn't scared or backing down even though blood was trickling into his eyes and gluing his lashes together.

“It doesn't matter what I need. You either agree, or you don't. Either way, I'll get what I want in the end.” Austin hissed, tearing his gaze away from Harry long enough to look at his men that were slowly making their way back into the room, a cats toy held in Kendall's hand.  _Stupid cat_.

Scratching at his head to try and distract himself from the pain radiating in his scalp from Austin ripping hair out, Harry leaned back against the couch and crossed his legs over one another, trying to act both unfazed and bored with this entire discussion. “I help you, then I go free? And you'll leave my family alone?”

No way was Louis going to run. Eyeing his dad and the men when they came back with just a cat toy, he snickered. Those men were so dumb. He knew each and every one of them, they were continus figures in his life growing up. THank god his parents never let them baby-sit, Louis probably wouldn’t be here now.

Trying to decide what else to do to distract them, he looked around the living room and the kitchen, seeing the door to the garage. He had fireworks left over didn’t he? Hm.He looked at Harry then rolled onto his stomach, wincing when he rolled onto his foot. Breathing heavily, he crawled quickly across the carpet back the way he came and darted around to the kitchen. When he felt he could stand, Louis did,  _very_  carefully, then twisted the knob for the garage door, opening it slowly to not make any noise as he backed into it then shut the door behind him just as gently. Now to find those fireworks.

THank god his mother was organized, as he found the box right away. It was more than he expected, but he wasn’t going to use all right away. He just wanted the ones that made the most noise but wouldn’t harm anything except maybe the carpet, but they weren't his carpets, so he didn’t care.

Digging in his pocket for a lighter, panicking slightly because he kept coming up empty, Louis felt his other pocket then his jackets, finally finding one and pulled it out. It wasn’t like him to not have a lighter. Unearthing the bottle rockets, he lined them up the steps leading into the garage then quietly opened the door leading into the house again. He could hear the men talking, still debating on what to do with Harry and Ed. Perfect.

“Take this, assholes.”

Lighting a bottle rocket, he threw it so it skidded into the living room then rolled away just as it went off, hopefully not catching Harry in the mix.

“Exactly. You help me, I help you.” Moving to sit on a chair placed directly across from Harry, Austin folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward. “My son doesn't remember you, and I'd very well appreciate keeping it that way. Ginger boy over here,” hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Ed, Austin shook his head, upper lip curling in disgust. “Seems to remember you and have a soft spot for you. I'd much rather prefer killing him off, an overdose wouldn't be out of the ordinary for him, but my son doesn't need to know that kind of pain. So,” breaking off to stand, Austin walked across the room and opened to double doors that led in to a dark room, the shadows of a desk letting on that it was an office or something similar.

“I need  _you_ to use your medical knowledge to… How do I put this? Erase his memories, all of them. I want him to have no recollection on who he is when I drop him off half way across the world.” Pulling open a desk drawer, Austin fished out a vial of something and threw it at Harry. “I also want you to duplicate the medication in there and, if possible, alter it to make it stronger. You do all of this for me, and don't try to fuck me over, I'll leave your family alone and you can go back to admiring my son from afar. Agreed?”

Harry listened, both confused and irritated by what was being requested of him. A few years ago he probably would have done this without a second thought, but a few years ago he wasn't a man on his way to medical school with a conscious making him question everything he was doing. It felt wrong using all he has learned to do harm, especially since he vowed to never use his gift unless it was to save a life. But with his sane side pushed aside, it allowed room for his reckless side, for the ridiculous need to protect his family. He would do anything for them, even if it meant slowly driving himself insane with guilt and what ifs.

“Why do you care so much about Ed? He's harmless. Sure, he has a drug addiction, but from what I've seen, he cares about your son and does whatever you or… Wait.” Harry paused, mouth slightly agape as it all clicked in his mind, as all the puzzle pieces were forced to create one smooth picture in his mind. “Zayn wants him gone.”

Wasn't it enough that he'd had Harry erased from Louis’ life, but now Ed too? Who was next? That Cole kid Louis was constantly hanging all over. Zayn was playing some sort of game, and now, as Harry sat staring at the smirking man who knew he was about to get his way, he wasn't sure  _who_  was controlling the puppet strings and calling the shots. Zayn was manipulating Austin, something the man couldn't see.

“It doesn't matter who wants him gone, Harry. What matters is if you want to save your family or not.” Zayn was speaking now, crouching down so he was eye level as he grinned, face contorted to make him appear like a demon from some childs dreams, and the shadows the low lights were casting weren't helping at all.

“You're a sick bastard. You're taking everyone from him. Why though? What makes Louis so important that you need him all to yourself?” Harry so wished he would have got the answer, but something hitting against his hand, followed by this almost sizzling sound, had him looking down. He reacted before he thought, and he was grabbing the red stick and throwing it towards Zayn and the group of men before he ducked and rolled, taking cover behind the couch.

The firework exploded, smoke filling the room as groans and screams ricochet around the room. Standing as quickly as he could, Harry took off running in the direction he'd seen Louis going, blindly following the stench of smoke coming from down the hallway until he nearly fell face first out the open door. “You-- You sa-” he couldn't finish his sentence, too awe struck and perplexed to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence that made even the slightest bit of sense.

When he heard shouting from behind him, he quickly grabbed Louis’ hand and began to tug him towards the opened garage door. “Come on, we don't have time.” He didn't know if Louis was coming, but at this point he didn't care. Austin wouldn't hurt him, and Harry needed to get this vial somewhere safe so he could see what the fuck the man was pumping his son full of.

The chaos in the living room made Louis snicker. What he didn’t expect was Harry running out and grabbing him, making him run with him. “Wait.. wait.. Wait.. ow..” He wailed when he stepped hard on his broken ankle. Why did he have to break it during the school year? Bye cheerleading. Reaching down, he pulled his shoe from the foot, then took off running with Harry. He hadn't’ heard a single word anyone had said in there, probably a good thing.

Stopping at the end of the driveway, he looked in the direction of his Jeep then at Harry’s motorcycle. No way in hell was he getting on that, nor was Harry. The men from inside came running out, yelling, a gun shot being heard making him duck instinctively even though he knew it wasn’t aimed at him.

“GET YOUR ASS IN MY JEEP NOW! It’s a block over! Go!” Louis grabbed Harry’s hand to tug him across the street into the woods. It was semi-safe and covered enough, if all else fails, Louis had a secret hideout in a tree in the woods. If it was still there.

Harry pulled his hand out of Louis’, refusing to go any further. “I'm not leaving my bike.” It may be a death wish, but that bike was his baby and he'd be damned to leave it here with these monsters and chance it getting beaten to shit. “You stay here, I'll be back. Just hide.” He was in a rush, panicked, yet calm all at the same time.

He turned to duck back out of their covered spot, but then Louis was grabbing his arm and placing a gun in his hand, a knife clenched in the boys fist. With a whispered, “Be careful. I'm not charging out there to save your dumbass again.” He was shoving Harry out onto the street and ducking behind a few shrubs.

Stumbling, Harry looked up and watched as men came pouring out of the house, half of them running to the backyard while the rest got in the suv’s and drove towards the direction Louis was parked. Still hidden behind a tree, Harry quickly ran from his spot and across the street when the ghost was clear, or so he'd thought.

“Hey! He's around here!” A man was running around the side of the house, hand lifting with a gun pointed directly at Harry. And before he could think about how fucking wrong this was, a bullet grazed his shoulder and he pulled the trigger on his own gun.

Blood splattered out of the man’s chest, crimson liquid immediately pouring out of his mouth as he crumpled to the ground. This wasn't Harry's first kill, but the gun suddenly felt heavy in his hand and his stomach churned with the need to vomit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

As fast as he could, Harry lifted his bike off the ground and started it just as he heard the creaking gate behind him closing. “You can't run! There's nowhere to go, Harry.” it was Austin’s voice, amplified by the speaker system he'd installed.

But Harry would run, even if it meant he gets killed in the end. Revving his bike, two more shots rang out and sparks shot off of the cement in front of his tire where the bullet had ended up hitting, richoteing and slamming into the side of one of the Suv’s that had been left. Pressing the gas, Harry lurched forward and began to drive, bike wobbling as he fought to get it under control while also shooting behind his shoulder.

His hearing was already gone, ear drums ringing with the endless sounds of guns firing. And just as the gate was getting ready to shut, Harry scraped his bike through the small crack and watched in victory as it slammed and locked with a satisfying  _click_. “Louis! Come on! We don't have long.”

He didn't know why he was waiting around for a boy who didn't care about him, or remember him, yet he brought his bike to a halt and found himself screaming when a bullet pierced his thigh, a fire starting in the flesh, spreading and sending waves of hot, angry pain throughout his body. Blood was dripping everywhere, and he could feel himself giving into the dark side as the pain threatened to consume him, but then Louis called him. It was like he was suddenly awake, fueled by the need to protect, and he wasn't focused on his thigh that was getting shredded as the bullet broke off in pieces.

Turning around, with one split second left to react, Harry shot one of the men in the shoulder, the smell of gas suddenly reaching his nose. The bullet they'd shot at him had pierced the gas tank, the flammable liquid pouring out all over the street and taunting Harry, calling for him to light it. So he did. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket and lit it, eyes reflecting the flame and gleaming as he looked up and found Austin was standing in the garage, Zayn next to him and both men looking pissed off.

“You can run, Austin, but I'll find you!” Throwing the lighter down, Harry watched as the ground caught on fire and the flames greedily engulfed the car, giving them maybe five seconds before it blew up. “Get on!”

Shaking in his hiding spot, he yelped when the first shot rang out. Why did he give his gun to Harry? Peeking up to call out to him, he gasped, seeing the man who had been shooting at Harry suddenly go down, bloodied and well on his way to dying.

Clambering to get up, Louis hop ran to the motorcycle without thinking and climbed on, hugging tight around Harry’s waist. With both of them wounded, their next option should be a hospital, Louis’ wound wasn’t related to whatever had just gone on, but Harry’s was and weren’t hospitals supposed to report bullet wounds? And going back to the college wasn’t an option, Zayn and Austin would just find them again.

Pressing face into the back of Harry’s leather jacket, he inhaled the smell of it, crinkling nose, but findign slight comfort in being close to him. But why? And why did he have a sudden urge? Growling, Louis buried face more into the jacket and let out a groan, squeezing at the taller man’s side as he listened to the motor hum on the bike, not thinking about how close to the ground he was being on one and how it scared the hell out of him to be on one? He’d be okay if he kept his eyes closed.

After several minutes, Louis turned head up, blue eyes opening to look at the back of Harry’ head, not looking down at the street. “Harry, where are we going? We need to go somewhere safe. To get our wounds looked at.” He felt like a pansy for complaining about a broken ankle, a bullet wound had to hurt worse.

“If I give you the address to a makeshift hospital, you could get the bullet out of yourself couldn't you?” Louis was hopeful. He gave the address of a small place downtown, a kind of safe house that Louis had found when things at home weren’t going well, which was often. He often felt that his dad favored Zayn over him, his own flesh and blood took second place against a person he didn’t help bring into this world. “Asshole..”

Harry didn't talk, couldn't, not when he was trying to force himself in to watching the road rather than focusing on the slim arms around his waist. Too many memories prodded at his already weak mental walls, begging to let resurface and smell the vanilla soap clinging to everything around him. His vision was swimming with images of Louis, nights they'd spent together when Harry had to force himself to remember Louis was only 10, he wasn't a boy going through puberty yet, wouldn't understand the thoughts and urges Harry had. And in some way, those days were a lot like right now. He couldn't fuck this up and scare Louis away, not when he felt like the only thing keeping him sane, holding him together in the here and now, was some stupid boys arms or the feeling of his nose digging into his back.

Completely ignoring the directions Louis had gave him, Harry went on the opposite side of town, towards the forest on the skirts of San Francisco where a small log cabin set. Nobody would find them here. Nobody knew about it, except for Ron and Harry. This was the older man's hideaway, his safe haven, and he'd shared it with Harry. Promised nobody would find him, or even look for him there, because the name on the cabin was a fake alias Ron had, and the bills were paid with cash.

Rolling down the dirt road was almost nostalgic, especially with Louis so close to him. The first time Harry had driven a motorcycle Louis had rode with him. He'd complained the whole time, swore if Harry crashed he'd kick him in the balls and cut his hair (though he never would). He didn't crash, and was extra cautious. Not because of the threats, but because of who was on the back. When it was just him riding, he was reckless, didn't care about his own life as much as he'd cared about Louis’.

Pulling up in front of the cabin, Harry killed the engine and had enough brain cells left to roll the bike forward a little so it was hidden in the bushes more, away from curious eyes who decided to use the trail. “This place is safe,” he said, voice thick and deep, gruff with the effort to think and not act, to not let loose and make Louis  _remember_ him.

Frowning when Harry completely disregarded his directions, Louis sighed and held on tight. He hoped Harry knew what the hell he was doing, Austin knew this town like the back of his hand, knew how to keep himself out of trouble and who to call if he did mis-step and get into hot water. It sickened Louis. That’s why the tiny one ducked his head and kept in the shadows, not wanting to be out in the spotlight like his father.

The log cabin looked quaint, but he still felt paranoid and looked around at the trees surrounding the house. Was that a shadow moving? Did he just hear a twig snap? When Harry climbed off the bike, Louis scrambled off to stick close to the taller one, forgetting about his ankle as he held onto the back of Harry’s coat until they were safely in the cabin. LIcking over his lips, he pointed at the door, begging with his eyes for him to lock it then hobbled over to the couch and sank down, bringing legs up to rest on the table.

“OK we’re safe? The only problem now is that,” Louis pointed at Harry’s bleeding leg then turned away. Blood wasn’t his favorite, he was squeamish. Picking at a frayed end of his pants, he twisted it around his finger so it cut into the skin then yanked the thread out and flicked it on the floor. “Harry, I don’t want you to bleed to death.”

Jerking when his phone rang, Louis completely forgetting he had it on him, but was thankful. What if things had turned out worse? Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the caller ID, it was Zayn. Turning it off so the man couldn’t get his location, he set it on the table then nodded at Harry, “I’d turn yours off too, just in case. My dad and Zayn are smart.”

Harry laughed and pressed a hand against his thigh and he limped across the room, fingers slick with the warm, sickeningly red blood oozing from his leg. “Austin had my phone crushed,” he said, hissing low as his wound stretched open as he bent down to grab the box Ron kept below a stand in the small living room. The place was surprisingly clean, electricity on and heat working. If he needed to make a phone call, he'd use one of the burners Ron kept here. Man was paranoid and insisted on having a stockpile of them in every home he owned.

Setting the bag down on the table in front of Louis, Harry undid his pants and let his eyes dart to Louis for a quick second before he finally tugged them down, being extra cautious not to rip off the scab that had started to form.  _Not good_. “Upstairs, on the left side of the hallway there's a room. First door. In the closet there's a bag, will you go grab it?” He didn't bother telling Louis what was in the bag, not really thinking the boy would have any questions.

Pants pooling around his ankles, Harry slowly pulled the leg of his boxers up, not even caring that he was wearing spandex boxers that clung to his dick and left little to the imagination. Opening the bag, he began grabbing the supplies he needed. Suture kit, pliers, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a scalpel, gauze and medical tape with the adhesive that was supposed to be stronger, but seemed to wear off faster. He may or may not have grabbed the small vial of morphine that was tucked in the corner of the bag, or the still packaged needle.

The more blood shown, the paler Louis got. WHen offered the errand, he jumped up to retrieve it and bring it back down, the return being slower as his ankle was screaming to be rested again. Seeing Harry pull out a needle, Louis scrunched up his nose and hobbled to a chair near the television and switched it on, not daring to look back.

Bringing a hand up to his mouth, he chewed on a hangnail framing his left pointer finger as other hand clicked through the shows at rapid speed, not finding one that interested him. Most of the channels were dominated by soap operas, one thing in life that Louis refused to enjoy, the other choices were Lifetime Movies ( hell no ) or  _Friends_  re-runs, which were all new to Louis, but he couldn’t e arsed to watch them. Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and slowly turned head to see what Harry was doing.

Eyes wide at the sight of the boxers and what was in them, Louis turned back the TV and flipped through the channels one more time. Still nothing! Throwing the remote down, he spotted a pad of paper and pen discarded on a bookshelf full of books and grabbed both. Tapping the pen on his chin, he raised eyes, noticing a mirror reflecting the room, mainly Harry and his shoulder area, giving Louis an idea of what to draw.

Harry didn't bother with the bottle of numbing shit. Instead, he gave himself a big ass dose of morphine, his tolerance having been built up over the years. Opening the tweezers with his teeth, Harry pulled the metal out and rested them on his thigh while he opened the scalpel and poured alcohol over his leg and pliers. The shock and burn from the disinfecting liquid had his face scrunching up, the discomfort from having it seep down into his wound nearly worse than the actual shot.

Slicing each side of the hole to open it more, Harry grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and bit down on it, to keep his teeth from shattering as he shoved a finger into the wound, the feel of warm flesh something he was used to now after years of practice. Unlike he'd originally thought, the bullet hadn't broke off into pieces but rather shredded all the meat around it, but it wasn't deep and wasn't close to anything important.

Eyes screwing shut, Harry slowly retracted his finger, the flesh creating a sort of suction that kept pulling his finger down further until he'd actually grown enough balls and just jerked it out.  _Smart._ Louis wasn't his main focus, or really something he was worried about. Using the pliers to hold the skin apart, the wound open, he used the tweezers and dove head first into the bloody mess. “Oh fuck,” Harry whined, low and deep, a small droplet of sweat rolling between his furrowed eyebrows and down his scrunched nose. This wasn't the worst pain he'd ever been in, but it still really fucking hurt.

“You okay over there?” He asked, trying to keep himself distracted when the sudden scrap of metal on metal had a shiver running down his spine.  _He hated the sound, but hated it more when he could_ feel  _it inside him._ He'd found the bullet, now the hard part was digging it out.

When his hand started to cramp up, Louis set the pen down to massage it. Hearing nothing on Harry’s end, he turned to face him, only to get an eyeful of the man pretty much doing surgery on himself. The sight of the blood, the squelching noise and the gaping wound made Louis just stare with his mouth wide open as his stomach rumbled and tugged at itself wanting to empty the contents of it and fast. Jumping to his feet, Louis scrambled down a hallway, lucking out by finding the bathroom on the first try and dry heaving over the toilet. Nothing came out but more dry heaves then he flushed the toilet, even if nothing was in the bowl and washed his hands using the rose mint hand soap placed next to the tap.

“Is it safe to come back in?” Louis asked, hating how his voice sounded so wobbly. Clearing his throat, he started down the hallway, slowly peering around to see if Harry was done. Shuffling back into the hallway, Louis turned around to wander again, finding the hall was a complete circle and ended up in a kitchen / laundry room setup. He wasn’t hungry, after seeing the operation back there, but he needed something to drink, mouth dry.

Hesitating, he went for the fridge and pulled it open, pulling out a couple water bottles, one for Harry when he yelled the coast was clear and uncapped the one for himself. A deep swallow, the cool rush of the liquid was making his overheated body simmer down a little bit as he turned to stare out the window that looked into the sinister woods behind the cabin. Licking over lips, he crept over to the window to look closer, it was daylight so the woods weren’t particularly eerie yet, but once the night broke, he wanted the drapes drawn on this window. He’d seen too many horror movies to survive this.

Once the bullet was out and he was sure there was nothing left in his leg, Harry once again poured some alcohol over his leg, watching as it pooled in the hole in his leg before the pink mixture slid down his leg, dripping on the carpeted floor and staining the white.  _Poor choice._ Unsteady fingers opened the suture kit, and he can't say the morphine hadn't kicked in now because nothing hurt. He was entirely transfixed on watching as the needle pierced each layer of skin before he tugged it and made the two sides come together.

The time seemed to pass by entirely too fast, and in three seconds he was done but when he looked up at the clock on the wall, he was surprised to see it had actually taken fifteen minutes for three small stitches. “Louis, I'm done!” He yelled, carefully removing his pants, leaving him in his poorly concealing boxers.

Taking off his cut and jacket, Harry frowned as his finger ran down the tear a bullet had caused when it grazed his shoulder, missing the skin thanks to the thick leather. Hefting himself up, he held his clean hand against the right side of his ribs, still convinced they were broken but not wanting to look at the skin surely painted with a nice array of colors. The walk to the kitchen felt impossible, the left side of his body dragging behind him with his leg.

“You ready? I have some things to help your leg,” taking the offered bottle of water, Harry unscrewed the cap and drained half of the cold liquid before he set it on the counter and wobbled over to the sink. “Let me wash up first.” He sounded so awkward, something that didn't go well with his naturally slow speech and low voice.

The okay to return and Louis turned from the windows and handed Harry his bottle. With one free hand, he flexed his fingers to crack them, hand momentarily going for the cigarette pack in his pocket, chewing on his lower lip as tongue flicked out to wet them.

“Hm? My leg? It’s nothing, Harry. I’m fine.” Draining his bottle, he crunched the plastic container in his hand then shoved it into the pocket of his coat. Rubbing hands together, he looked at Harry fully, startled that the man was half naked.  _Harry, Harry, HARRY!I_ HIs mind screamed at him. Louis had to admit, the guy was nice to look at.

Whatever memory had come flooding back at the college, he should have held onto, it was gone again and Louis was sad, the only remnants of it being him sobbing at the end. But Harry had been there. Why?!

Not realizing he’d been walking up to Harry, his small foot came down on one of Harry’s causing him to squeak out an apology, face redding up to the tip of his ears and body temperature skyrocketing. “Sorry.. Sorry..”

Rolling his eyes, and not caring about Louis stepping on his foot because he couldn't feel it, Harry grabbed his bicep and drug him over to the couch Louis had been sitting on, ignoring the one stained with blood.  _Sorry not sorry_. “Morphine, or pain pills?” Getting high wasn't on his to-do list right now, but he wanted to share the fuzzy feeling with Louis, regardless if it was smart or not.

Grabbing the bag Louis had retrieved from upstairs, Harry unzipped it and grabbed the first boot that was on top. It was black, bulky, and was mid calf but would help his leg and prevent him from doing anymore damage. Reaching for Louis’ foot without his consent, Harry let it rest on his good thigh and careful fingers poked at the purple skin, feeling the make sure nothing was broken. It was odd, how careful he was being. When with his own patients, he was usually gruffer, the pain medication making it so they didn't feel anything at the moment but definitely would when it wore off.

But… Here he was, carefully lifting Louis’ sore leg and slipping the boot on it, cradling the back of his heel and just sliding his fingers up as the boot went higher. “This… This will help,” yet again, he was captain raspy with words so low they were barely above a whisper. He let his long fingers brush over more skin than was necessary as he fastened the velcro straps, cautious not to pull them too tight.

When all was said and done, he swallowed thickly and moved back, but had yet to remove Louis’ foot from his thigh.  _He doesn't remember you. He doesn't know you. Don't look._ Somedays he believed he enjoyed causing himself pain, because he let his eyes float up to find Louis’ face, heart constricting when he seen that damned look. The parted lips, furrowed brows, buttoned nose scrunched and his damned eyes were asking so many questions, ones Harry couldn't answer.

Roaring when Harry touched the bruised skin, Louis gave a whimper, wanting to scoot away from the pain. Shaking head at both options, he mumbled something under his breath. No medications of either kind, though he did find himself asking which one worked the fastest as his stomach was starting to coil up from the pain.

Breathing hard through his nose, he watched Harry through the complete booting of his foot, the long fingers being gentle, the green eyes being attentive and that mouth of his, Louis couldn’t stop staring at. Wriggling nose, he brought petite hand to rub at it then shifted to get comfortable and making sure his foot didn’t leave Harry’ slap.

Swallowing hard himself, Louis licked over lips again then without even thinking about it, leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips. It felt natural, like he was supposed to be doing this, but who the hell was this guy? As quick as the kiss was, it was over and Louis gave a cough, wanting to run away now, but like a magnet his body got closer to Harry’s as he leaned in to nuzzle head against Harry, eyes fluttering closed as he strained to make himself remember. Anything. Remember the boy sitting next to you! Your heart remembers, but your heart can’t talk unless it communicates with your blocked brain!  _Come on, Louis!!!_

“Froggie?”

Louis’ eyes sprung open and he stared once again at Harry, mouth agape. A picture of a frog slid into his memory banks then Harry then a bunny. What the hell did this mean?!

Harry was frozen, didn't know how to react or even remember what his lungs or limbs were for. Louis’ lips still burned against his, though now it was just a ghost he couldn't shake, wouldn't. People always question if time truly does erase everything, but he knew now it didn't. The feelings fluttered to life in his rib cage, stomach swarming with bats and brain fuzzy with thoughts and memories and just… Louis.

“Y-You shouldn't do that.” He whispered hoarsely, lips barely moving. The nickname had his heart hammering, stomach churning and entire body sobbing as he tensed and forced himself to look past his own personal feelings. Frustrated, Harry suddenly stood and moved to stand across the room, too disgusted with himself to even allow himself to be so close to Louis. He was taking advantage of someone who didn't know him, yet thought he looked familiar.

“Stop trying to remember. I can't do this anymore,” and just like that, the bad boy facade came crumbling down, mask shattering and revealing the scared, heartbroken teen Louis had left all those years ago. He may have lived the first four years of his life without Louis, but he honest to god didn't know how he has survived these past eight years. It was once just them, Louis surrounding Harry's entire world, then he'd been ripped away and now Harry was getting teased.

Louis was dangling memories in front of him, tempting him to take the bait and just give in already, to help the boy remember  _everything._ But reality was much more harsh. Louis  _couldn't_ remember him, not until Austin retracted his claws. “I can't.”

Confused, Louis stared at the man that had been beside him and was now standing up. He wasn’t going to after him, the kiss had been a mistake, a fluke. Pushing himself off the couch with his good foot, he stood up, winching when the weight was put on both feet and struggled to go for the hallway. He needed to use the bathroom, or get out of here. If his dad or someone had been following them, they’d be here by now, wouldn’t they?

There was little to no traffic to be heard, wherever they were. Tires on the gravel road would be heard before they were seen. Peering out the front window at the empty lawn in front of them. If Harry and Louis didn’t show up at college, would Austin and them go after people they both loved? Liam? Cole? Shit, COLE.

Whipping around, he hobbled to his phone and turned it on, then thought better of it and grabbed his burner out of his sock. Quickly typing a text to COle’s number, memorized because he used it so much, he tapped the screen hard as a million emojis flooded it from his touch. “Miss you already. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back xoxo Louis” Then send. Louis brought the text messaging app up again to add a PS; please don’t go off campus or walk around by yourself for a while. I’ll explain later!!! Then hit send again.

Louis hiccuped from how fast he’d sucked down the water and glanced in the direction of the bathroom then at his outfit then at the couch. If they were going to stay here, where the hell was he going to sleep? He felt like he could just lay down and take a nap now, but he didn’t trust himself to sleep soundly, what with what had been going on.

“I.. need to.. Do something. Pain..” Louis mumbled as he walked over to the chair he’d been sitting in, grabbing his makeshift drawing pad and pen then went for the kitchen he’d just exited to sit down at the table and mindlessly doodle, while smoking a cigarette. Fuck this not being his home.

Quietly opening the windows, he peered through the blinds then light up the cigarette, the sweet first drag of nicotine filling his lungs. Holding it in as long as he could, Louis fluttered eyes shut then blew the smoke out through the window, his mind and head emptying.

Just like he'd thought. Louis didn't fight him, scream, demand Harry to shut the hell up and leave him alone. He didn't care, just thought he did. Body sagging as a sob bubbled up his throat, Harry pressed a fist against his mouth and willed himself to calm down, to forget. The vial in his pocket in his jacket seemed tempting, far too much to be good. If Louis could forget, why couldn't he? Save them both the pain?

Grabbing the jacket, he slowly made his way up the stairs, babying his leg, and leaned heavily against the wall as he limped down the hallway and towards the last door on the right. It was a bedroom, the one Ron used and Harry had stayed in a few times. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, Harry walked over to the dresser and grabbed one of the burner phones before he pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid down to the hardwood covered floor.

Hidden between a bed and dresser, Harry turned the phone on and opened the texting app, putting in the number he'd memorized by heart. “Gemma, it's Harry. Don't worry, I got out with all my limbs and didn't get my dick shot off. I'll be home as soon as I can. Make sure dad has men around your house, and for the love of god, be careful. I love you, Bambi.” Pressing send, he let his head fall back against the wall and his entire body sagged when he finally stopped  _caring._ They knew he was safe, Louis was fine, and he'd lived.

Part of him hadn't wanted to, but that part was shoved down far, buried deep inside his brain and he never planned on acting on any of these thoughts.  _Maybe you could just forget._ The thought was once again tempting, and his attention was drawn to the jacket thrown over his lap. Biting his lip, Harry grabbed the vial and held it between his thumb and pointer fingers, eyes focused on the way it glistened in the light. It's amazing how something so small, so easily overlooked, could change someone's life, could erase decades of memories and feelings.

Double checking the lock on the front door, Louis peered out the main window, blue eyes watching the property. Nothing moved. No vehicle approached. Licking over his lips, he still didn’t feel safe with the door lock, so Louis went for the couch. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to move it himself, but being too stubborn to call to wherever Harry had gone to help, he squatted down to grab it and yank it in the direction he wanted it to go. He made it a couple feet when it got too heavy and dropped it, right on both feet. Screaming loudly when the pain in his bad foot radiated times a thousand, Louis pushed the couch off his foot and let a string of curses emit from his lips. Pain killers, NOW.

Checking the bag Harry had him bring down, he found nothing but Tylenol and needles with the promise of morphine being delivered, but hated needles. No thank you. Sighing at the red and white tabs, he popped open the bottle and downed three with a fresh bottle of water he’d gotten. It’d help. A little bit.

Sliding down to the floor, he gave a huff. Who was he kidding, he couldn’t sleep on the floor. Eyeing his throbbing foot, the boot becoming itchy and a little too warm, Louis got up again and throwing his weight against the couch, managed to get it lodged against the front door. It made him feel insanely safer. Flopping down, he pulled the afghan off the back to cover himself and curled up in a ball on his side, like he usually slept, but the bulky boot made it uncomfortable so he slid to his back and stared up at the ceiling as his body finally gave into the exhaustion from the morning and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Not paying attention to the thumps or screams downstairs, because he'd figured if Louis was in real danger he'd yell for him, Harry groaned as he pushed himself to stand and replaced the floor with the bed, body sinking into the memory foam mattress that formed around his spin and lifted the pressure off his chest. Tucking the vial back into his pocket for safekeeping, Harry took the gun out Louis had given him and placed it under his pillow for safe keeping. It didn't have more than a bullet or two in it, but those bullets could save their lives and his gun was still strapped to his bike. He was sure Ron had some weapons hidden around here, but he was too tired to look.

Untucking the opposite side of the blanket, Harry pulled it over his body instead of moving to pull it from under himself. Sleep came quickly after that. One second he was staring at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck he was doing all the way out here with Louis, then the next everything was black. Images of Louis haunted his dreams, painting his eyelids with a soft boy curled around a teddy bear, and staining his ears with quiet humming.  _Come for me when you're ready. I'll be waiting where the sky touches the sea, remembering you as the stars drown beneath the water and the moon hides from the sun. There, you will find peace. There, the night never ends and the shadows aren't to be feared._

 _I'll be waiting._ Harry will always wait. 


	6. Chapter 6

Not entirely sure who to trust now, Louis had texted Cole. He darted around what really happened at his dad’s house, just said he had to get away for awhile and not to worry. He also knew he couldn’t trust Zayn anymore. How could the guy do that? His best friend betraying the fuck out of him right under his nose. Hell, his  _dad_  condoning it. No wonder Austin was pleased when Zayn moved in their sophomore year of school due to problems at home, Austin was grooming Zayn to take over the business, not Louis. If this was a movie, Louis would have a secret weapon, someone to call and bring an end to this, but alas, it’s not and he can only sit in hiding while Austin and Zayn did whatever.

Tapping foot against the wall, he took another pace around the house. Ducking into the bathroom, he eyed the bath tub then searched through the cabinets for a towel and some body wash, Axe, his least favorite, but at least he’d get clean. Not caring that this wasn’t his house and he should probably ask Harry before doing it, he reached over to twist the taps so the tub would fill then exited the bathroom to grab his phone, wishing he had his Bluetooth speakers for better sound, but his phone ones would have to do for now.

Sinking into the warm water after getting undressed, he stretched out, putting sore foot on the edge of the tub and just letting himself drift away into oblivion. The warmth, the water sloshing around in the bathtub and the music from his phone was relaxing him.

Harry wasn't entirely sure he was even alive when he woke up that next morning. His entire body was sore, leg throbbing with each and every small move and his lungs felt impossibly tight, like with each breath he was inhaling razor blades. When he finally decided to roll out of bed, he hobbled his way down the hallway and heard the water running in the bathroom. Pressing his ear against the door, a small smile slipped onto his lips when he heard Louis singing softly along to the low song playing, one he didn't recognize.

Quickly going into a spare room, Harry found an old shirt of his that he'd left him, that was way too small now, and a pair of Ron’s sweatpants. The man was tiny, like Louis. They'd work. Grabbing a towel out of the closet in the hallway, Harry held the bundle of clothes beneath his arm and struggled to make it the five feet to the door, his leg already igniting a fire deep in the tissue.

Knocking softly, Harry pressed his ear against the door to hear better. “I have some extra clothes out here, if you'd like them. And a towel. I'll leave them by the door.” He said it loud enough to be heard, voice ricocheting around in the wood and making it vibrate. Feeling like a bloody cripple as he bent and contorted his body to set the clothes on the floor, bad leg kept straight, Harry smiled softly… Until his bladder caught up to his brain.

Sitting down on his butt, he slid down each step, taking one at a time and being as careful as he possibly could. His legs reached the bottom by the time his butt hit the middle step, forcing him to grab hold of the railing and heft himself up all the while keeping his legs straight and trying not to slip. Doing his business in the half bathroom downstairs, Harry washed his hand then went into the kitchen to hunt for food. The excitement yesterday seemed to have fueled him enough not to eat, but he was starving today.

The music was loud enough to not hear what was going on outside the door, except for the knock that startled him enough to sink below the water’s surface until he heard footsteps retreating. Blowing out his breath, he used his toe to pull the plug on the drain then got out. Trying not to make too much noise from his foot, Louis gently placed it on the closed toilet seat to look at it.

“Shit.. I think it's even more swollen.” Louis poked at the puffy skin then slid the boot back on. He'd ask Harry to look at it later. He wanted some breakfast and coffee first. Opening the door, his eyes got wide at the clothes laying there. He was going to put the same ones on.

“Thanks Fro.. Harry!” he yelled into the quiet house, voice muffled as he pulled tee shirt over his head. Perfect fit! Then he stepped into the pants having to cinch them as his waist was slightly smaller than the owner's.

Emerging from the bathroom, he went for the kitchen and over to the coffee maker, glad it was a simple one he could figure out. Just don't ask him to cook anything.

The kitchen was stocked full of all the necessities, meaning Ron had been up here recently. Finding some pans and a bowl, Harry whipped up some pancake batter and began to heat the oil for the eggs, the bacon already sizzling away on the stove. Usually when he cooked, he got all into it and swayed his hips as he clumsily danced around the kitchen, but today he tried not moving around too much and stayed in the same spot nearly the entire time until he had to go find plates.

Setting the dishes up behind him on the counter, with cups and all, Harry separated the food onto the two separate plates and filled his clear glass with apple juice that had a questionable smell and unknown expiration date. Taking a tentative sip of the juice as he watched Louis start the coffee, Harry's nose automatically wrinkled and his throat slammed closed, refusing to swallow the liquid that kind of smelt like alcohol but tastes like rotten, sour ass. Gagging, eyes watering when some of the juice slipped down his throat and made him gag again, Harry spit the drink on the counter and grabbed blindly for something to drink.

Maple syrup coated his tongue, washing away the taste as the syrup slid down his throat. Swallowing thickly, Harry smiled sheepishly, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I-- Uhm-- it's rotten.” Biting down on his lip to keep from making and even bigger fool of himself, Harry cleaned up his mess then slid Louis’ plate across the counter to him. “How are you feeling today? How's your ankle?”

He was playing a role, that was all, wasn't it? He didn't want Louis up here, didn't want to be anywhere close to him even if he'd been the one to drag  _both_  of their asses up here. He was just a… A caring person who couldn't let Louis go back to campus in his condition, especially when Austin knew he'd seen everything. But he was lying to himself, and doing a very poor job at it. Louis seemed to draw him closer, making his body want to be as close to his as it possibly could, but when they touched it burned.  _Was he supposed to fucking leave him, or stay and continue to get burned?_ The latter didn't sound too appealing.

The gagging made Louis look, eyebrow sliding up in amusement. Rotten apple juice, been there. He shopped sometimes like there were four people eating the food. His eyes were bigger than his stomach. Pouring two cups, he slid one across the table to Harry then took the plate.

“Thank you.. and I think it's gotten worse,” Louis slid onto the provided stool, legs dangling. God, he was so short. “But I found a first aid kit in the bathroom and some um.. weapons hidden in a cabinet,”

Throwing some butter on the pancakes, he watched it melt on the golden brown surface then drowned it in maple syrup goodness. He loved the sugar way too much.

Smearing butter on his own pancakes, Harry drizzled some syrup over it then looked up at Louis, trying to see  _something_. It has been a little over twelve hours since the gun fight, and possibly even longer since Louis took his pills. How long before he started to remember, before everything came clicking back into place and he'd look at Harry not as a stranger, but a fucked up fourteen year old who was far too dependant on a ten year old than he'd care to admit. All the memories weren't good ones, far from it, but fuck. He'd give away anything if Louis just remembered  _one_ bad thing. One Harry thing.

Drinking the coffee as he quietly ate his food, Harry tried keeping his eyes on his plate, not wanting to make Louis uncomfortable by staring too much. “I'll look at it later,” he eventually mumbled, lips sticky with syrup and breath reeking of coffee.  _Liquid gold_.

Somehow, his eyes betrayed his wishes and they moved to find Louis’ tattoo, more specifically the number twenty eight on his fingers. “Do you, uh-- Why'd you get that tattoo?” Harry asked, using fork to gesture towards Louis’ hand. He knew why'd he gotten it, or at least why the old Louis had insisted on getting it. Leaning against the counter, and using his elbows as support, Harry tried hiding his knowing smile behind long digits.

Waking up this morning he hadn't felt as cloudy minded as usual. His vitamins the last thing on his mind, he cut into his pancake, the taste rushing up to meet him striking familiarity in the flavor. Slowly the wheels were turning again, his memories were coming back to him as slow as molasses on a winter day. Another bite then he furrowed eyes and looked up at Harry.

“Because we were going to get married at age 28 and your pancakes were going to be made for the reception because they're heaven sent.” Louis’ mind took over, words spilling from his lips without thought. Whoa. Where did that come from?!

Dropping fork after inhaling the food, he bit into a strip of bacon then a bite of strawberry covered toast. He raised eyes to stare at Harry, looking into those big green eyes the color of a summer hill with yellow flowers growing on it. Reaching out Louis touched Harry’s hand then pulled away.

“I.. see you in a homemade apron in a kitchen with me standing there, both of us covered in flour.-)”

Harry's coffee mug fell to the counter, the contents already drained so nothing got spilled, and miraculously, nothing shattered. He hadn't expected an answer. Well, he did! But not the  _right_  answer. Louis had insisted they waited until Harry was 28, because it had always been his favorite number. No other reason, and it had to be on September 28th, too. He had the entire thing planned out by the time he was eight, even knew who was all coming and what Harry would cook. Apparently pancakes  _were_ a proper wedding dinner, and if we served any of the posh, ridiculously expensive food most people did, louis wouldn't attend. He would rather die of starvation.

“I was baking you a cake for your ninth birthday. You wanted a three tier ice cream cake, but wouldn't leave me alone to make it. You  _had_ to help,” Harry didn't know why he was telling Louis this, it just came pouring out as the memories flooded his vision. “We finished it in the end, but mum was so mad because we'd made a complete mess of the kitchen.” Brushing a hand over his cheek where Louis’ had kissed him with purple frosting covered lips, chilled from the ice cream, Harry shook his head and forced himself back into the present. “You'd made me the apron, for Christmas. It was the first time I'd worn it,”

His voice was heavy with memories, fondness, green eyes once again threatening to cloud over with memories.

_Harry turned on the electric mixer, the cover guard down so the flour shooting up wouldn't get all over the counter. His mum made him promise he wouldn't make a mess, and he didn't like breaking promises._

_“Harry! Harry! Stop! I got you a present,” a high pitched voice shrill, making Harry jump as he turned around to watch as Louis hopped into the kitchen like a ridiculously hyper bunny, fluffy hair sticking in each and every direction. The box, perfectly wrapped with green wrapping paper, was thrust into his arms and Louis giggled. “Open it, now.”_

_“But I'm baking.”_

_“I don't care, Haz! ‘ts my cake! Open it.” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, and making Harry nervous, the older of the two finally ripped the wrapping paper back and opened the plain brown box._

_Inside, folded in a small square with a picture of the two of them sitting next to each other resting on top of it, was a plain blue apron with “Froggie” written at the top in a green marker, handwriting sloppy but still perfect. “Isn't it pretty!? I worked all year on it, Hazza. You've been getting all your clothes dirty while you bake and those stains must be absolutely horrible for your mum to get out.” Louis was nervous, he tended to ramble when he was. “But.. Do you like it?”_

_“I love it, Louis.”_ And he truly did. He wore that thing everyday after that, even when Louis had moved. It wasn't until a few years ago that it had come up missing that he'd stopped wearing it. He could never find it, not that he'd ever stopped looking.

Giggling, Louis felt tears spring to his eyes as he walked around the counter, glad to share the memory with Harry. He remembered something! Without any hesitation, he slowly brought hand out to rest on top of Harry’s larger one, the older one’s skin warm as Louis tended to run very cold and usually found cuddled up to the youngest Styles for warmth. It felt familiar, being this close to Harry and smelling his scent, the complete opposite of his. It was more homey, spicy, pine needles, ocean water, and lemon. Burying nose in Harry’s neck, not caring if he was completely out of character, but in character for his normal self or that he was invading Harry’s privacy, he traced his nose along Harry’s jaw line to his Adam’s apple. Yep, he’d know that smell anywhere.

“You made it look like a winter wonderland because I’m born in the winter. All those purples, dark blues, and greys. I thought I was the artist.” Louis moved nose to Harry’s curls, the hair tickling the sensitive bits, but he closed eyes and held the man still to inhale his scent. If one memory could come flooding back like this because of a trigger, what more could they unlock? He was excited to see.

HIs blue eyes burst open and he pulled away to rush to where his bag was. The messenger bag he never took off himself even if it got in the way all the time. Nothing would make him give it up. Digging around in the side pockets, his hand closed around an object and he rushed back into the kitchen and to Harry’s side. Opening the hand, he revealed a perfectly flat rock with a bunny on it, overgrown front teeth and pink nose with whiskers gazing up at him with the initials HS in the corner.

“I think I figured out who HS is and who gave me this? Harry?”

It was all too perfect, too much. Was Louis really remembering, or had he never even forgotten? Keeping still as Louis’ nose moved along his jaw, hands doing whatever they pleased, Harry begged his heart to  _stop._ It was fluttering, singing, body responding to Louis’ touch no matter how much Harry fought or resisted it. Inhaling as soon as Louis broke awake, Harry lifted a hand to drag him back, afraid he was leaving, that he didn't  _want_  him anymore.

But then that stupid rock was placed in his hand and Harry was laughing, suddenly feeling like a child with no cares in the world. Well, only one. “I gave this to you after I'd broken your GI Joe doll. I'd tried to give you mine to replace it, but you'd pushed me in a creek and threw the doll,” he could almost feel the cold water, how it had sucked him below the current and forced its way into his mouth like cold, slimy hands. Louis, the small asshole four year old he was, laughed his ass off but had taken pity on Harry and called Gemma over, who had drug her brother out of the water and very nearly kicked his ass for being stupid.

“After that day, I knew not to piss you off. It's stupid, but I was always giving you gifts, trying to keep you happy. I was kind of afraid of you,” he wasn't lying. Louis was small, could fit into tiny places and he was  _mean._ He'd gotten sweeter over the years, as Harry began to ‘woo’ him, but he has always been very  _demanding and needy_. Harry didn't mind it though, liked reminding Louis what he was worth even if it was just a stupid little rock he'd painted a bunny on.

A small noise came out of Louis as he launched himself at Harry, jumping into the man’s arms to hug him hard. Burying face in the taller one’s neck, he inhaled hard to memorize his scent, just in case anything happened to him again to make him lose his memory, he never wanted to forget the smell of Harry. Nibbling along his neck, he snuffled under Harry’s ear, placing a kiss there then put a hand on his chin to hold his head steady as he gently kissed his lips. Grateful for a small part of his memory for making itself known, one that was a happy memory with the man before him. But why was Austin trying to keep them apart?

“Afraid of me? I was  _tiny_ , scrawny, and midget sized. That’s like a tree being afraid of a freaking rock.” Louis laughed, leaning over to grab the fork that Harry had been using to gently place some pancake into the cupid’s bow that was the curly haired one’s mouth then fed himself. “Admit it, you were just a big ol’ wimp back then.” He couldn’t remember anything else about Harry at the moment; his family or the kind sister that Louis considered a friend, even when Austin and Des were at each other’s throats trying to control their sons. “Wimp.”

Closing hand over the rock Harry had painted him all those years, he shoved it into his pocket, making note to transfer it into a necklace to keep on him at all times now that he knew the origin of the rock. With both hands free, he brought his now empty left one up to place in Harry’s hair, grasping at the curls and how soft they felt in his hands. “Froggie.. Curly Froggie.”

Harry nodded, eyes closing on their own accord as he allowed himself to enjoy this moment, to remember it forever. Who knew when he would have another one like this, if ever. “Scrawny but mean. You threw a toy metal car you had at my head!” Gently taking Louis’ hand, Harry led it up to the back of his head where the scar was, the same one he'd found himself rubbing absentmindedly almost every day. “I had to get twelve stitches, and had a concussion. Your size didn't stop you, you used it to your advantage.”

Smiling sadly, Harry finally acknowledged his leg that was screaming, begging to be heard. Pulling away, he sobered up as quick as he could and looked down at Louis. “You've always been independent. There was a time when I thought you'd needed me, when it was the complete opposite. I  _needed_  you.”

Overwhelmed with so many feelings, touches, memories, Harry turn away from Louis and limped into the living room. Grabbing his bloodied jeans off the floor, he reached into the picket to grab his wallet. It had missed all the chaos, and had somehow survived. Opening it up, he pushed aside the money and grabbed the picture that had been hidden in the back, shoved behind the cash.

The sides were faded, worn through the years but the two upper corners were the worst, two thumb shaped prints having rubbed the image off years ago. “This was taken a few months before you left,” he said when he heard Louis follow after him. In the picture, Harry was dressed in a pair of loose fitting black swimming trunks and Louis was on his back, head just barely peeking over Harry's shoulder. The boy's arms were around his neck, short legs around his waist and they were both grinning, skin kissed by the sun and eyes sparkling with life; love.

Gently scratching fingers over the scar, he made a noise and leaned in to kiss it, closing eyes. “Sorry about that. I guess you’re right, little me was mean as hell.” Smiling widely, eyes crinkling at the corner, he dropped his hand to touch Harry’s neck then let go when Harry rushed away suddenly.

Curious, Louis peered at the picture Harry was holding out. He recognized the two of them, but sadly that’s all he could acknowledge. Not everything was going to come back to him at once, or he’d have a hell of a headache. “Before I left?” Louis rolled blue eyes up to look into Harry’s as he settled into the sofa that had been pushed back to i’s original spot, pulling the taller one down with him. He’d seen Harry limping, his injury obviously still hurting them. They were a sight to see.

Leaning into Harry, he gave a sigh and pulled out his pack of cigarettes to light one up, too lazy to open a window to ventilate the house, but it wasn’t his to worry about. Inhaling the smoke, he reached over to grab Harry’s hand and gave it a squeeze, sliding fingers into his and not letting go. Their hands slotted perfectly together, like they were meant for each other. THeir bodies knew them better than they knew themselves.

“How’s YOUR leg? You’re the one who got shot. I just broke my ankle.” Louis smoothed down some of Harry’s fly away curls then brought the long leg up to cross over his lap, moving hand to his foot to genty message it.

Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that this wall all strange. Him and Louis may have acted this way when they were younger, but the people they are now, were so completely different. Harry now had memories of Louis that clashed together with the old ones, that didn’t fit with the Louis he had built up in his mind, held onto for years. Yet it still seemed so easy to cuddle up next to him, to allow his own body warmth to chase away the slight chill to Louis’ skin.

“It’s been better,” Harry said, just now remembering he had, in fact, been shot in his leg. Pulling out a burner phone he’d grabbed from upstairs, Harry checked the time, eyeballs bugging out of his skull when he seen it was almost nearing two o’clock. They’ve been missing for a while now, and if Austin wasn’t pissed last night, he definitely would be pissed today when his precious little toy didn’t show up.

Letting fingers skate over Louis’ severely  _sprained,_  not broken ankle, Harry pressed just above his ankle, watching as the no color rushed to where he’d pressed, and that the ankle had blown up to the size of a large balloon, no mobility to it. When he tried to bend it forward, fingers wrapped snug around Louis’ foot with his thumb pressed under his toes, Harry quickly stopped when Louis howled in pain. He had no movement, couldn’t stretch the joint or bend his foot which meant it was a third degree sprain.

Pushing his feet off his lap, Harry pulled out the bag he’d stuffed under the table last night and pulled out a orange bottle with no label, but had a P10 written on the bottom. Percocet ten. “Take one of these while I go get ice,” popping the lid open, Harry dropped a single white pill in Louis’ hand then put everything back and hobbled to the kitchen, where he filled a kitchen towel with some ice from the freezer and popped his own pill, hoping it would kick in soon.

Leave it to Harry to care about others before himself.. Louis wiggled his foot the way Harry had tried, not able to do it as he gave a squeak. Fucking foot! Looking over the white pill in his hand, he shoved it into his pocket, the only thing Louis took was his vitamins, and he didn’t even have them. He didn’t even take Tylenol, unless absolutely needed and even then he was leery. Carefully rolling to stand up, he put his bad foot forward then immediately hissed, switching all weight to his good one when he pulled his slim frame up to follow after Harry.

“Quit walking around on it, Harold!” The nickname came easily, another long lost nugget that had been stuck in his brain. How long had they been laying on the couch? Breakfast smells still lingered in the small area that was the kitchen, the syrup kind of congealing on the abandoned plates on the counter. Picking up a plate, he scraped it off into the trash, then grabbed the other to do the same before placing them in the sink to rinse. Something they probably should have done immediately after eating, but these weren’t his plates, so it wasn’t his problem. Rude mind. Go to the corner.

Pulling his own phone out, he noticed the missed calls from Zayn and his father, Cole had been given the burner phone’s number ( obviously). A text message from his father came in right as he was staring at the screen.

_Son, I’ll forgive you for blowing up the house.. Or attempting to if you hand over Harry. He’s not good for you. I’m your father and trying to protect you. You WILL listen to me, Louis. See you soon._

So that cocky bastard thought Louis would just give up and throw Harry to the wolves? Ha. Not even bothering to answer the text, he powered the device off and threw it on the counter. He was slowly getting his memory back and alarm bells were ringing when Austin’s name or face ran through his mind. Looking at Harry, he shook his head.

“Just got a text from my dad. He’s trying to get me on his side,”

Pressing the ice pack into Louis’ hand, Harry shook his head. “Why don't you? Go on his side, I mean. I'm more or less a stranger to you. What's the point in losing everything over me?” Harry asked, though in the same breath he was going to say that he would do it for Louis,  _has_  done it for Louis more than once. He'd ran away after the boy had left, searched all of the UK for him, but eventually had to tuck tail and run home to his mum and dad, admitting defeat. They may have been the only real ones there for him at the time, before Liam came, but Louis was the only thing keeping him going. The thought that he could one day see him again was his fuel, even if it had been only a small hope in a shallow bed of hate.

FUCK! LIAM! Harry spun quickly, went searching in the living room for the phone he'd somehow misplaced. He found it between two couch cushions, three text messages showing up on the lock screen but he ignore them in favor of opening a new message thread and typing in Liam’s name. He'd been so caught up in Austin, in  _Louis_ , that he'd forgotten to remind him of the danger, to tell him know that he was okay.

_Li, it's Haz. I'm okay. I've taken up occupancy in a well hidden place, and hope to god you do the same. Don't get hurt, you big arse._

He sent the text, then quickly typed another one.  _Promise me you'll be safe? I love you, Li._

Love has been something Harry has skirted around, the word only ever leaving his lips a total of ten times in the past eight years. But he loved Liam, more than he loved most people. The puppy eyed male has been there for him, without a shadow of a doubt. He's comforted Harry, put up with his beautiful array of personalities and moods, and has never once asked for anything in return. He just wanted Harry, in any way he could get them. And if Liam wasn't straight, Harry was sure he would have went after the man years ago, probably honestly tried, but now he respected him too much. Who else would stick around with someone so  _fucked_ up, and never once think about leaving?

A text vibrated his phone a few seconds later, making his dimples pop out as a shit eating grin broke out across his face.  _The_   _pitchforks and torches have been put away, and the angry monsters have been sent home. Fucking ass, I haven't slept all night because I'd worried you were dead. You get to pay for the suit I bought…. But don't worry about me, Haz. Keep the idiot safe, and don't be stupid. I'll send you a text as soon as me and Des decides it okay to come back._

Then

 _Aren't I always? I love you too, Hazza. Don't forget that_.

“You're slowly becoming familiar again, Harry. If my memories are unlocking, soon I'll be able to remember our whole childhood. You want that, I can see it in your eyes,” Ignoring the icepack, he let it roll off his leg where he’d laid it then picked up his own phone. “But.. what if I did? Pretend to give you over and trap him? We could get Liam and Cole to help? Zayn’s sucked in, but I think Ed could be some help?”

Louis got up from the couch and limped over to his pack. Flipping fingers through his drawing pad so the pages made a purring noise, he gasped and grabbed his lighter that was shaped like a gun, a souvenir from Vegas.

“I could put myself in danger? He'd freak and let his guard down to come rush and save me, then we make a move.” Pointing the lighter at Harry, he made gun noises similar to the ones they made as children while playing cowboys. “You could ‘flip’ and decide to use me as ransom in return for my dad leaving your family alone, to move out of the country?”

“Would he believe it though?” Throwing himself back on the couch, Harry let fingers dance over his stomach, shirt hiked up to reveal his belly button and below. He still hadn't bothered to find pants, too focused on everything else to think about constricting his aching thigh in tight clothing. Blood and guns popped to mind when Louis poorly mimicked gunshots, an idea having Harry shooting up to grab at the medical bag.

“I can put fake wounds on you! I have all the things I'd need, and blood isn't too hard to either make or..” Glancing down at his thigh, Harry shuddered at the thought but still gestured at it, “get. But what then? You do know I have every intention of killing your father, don't you?” Austin should have been taken care of all those years ago, and Louis should have been raised right along with Harry, not across the world with fake memories and no recollection of where he was truly from.

Louis may be getting his memories back, but surely he hasn't remembered enough to completely change his view and opinion on his father. So why was he doing it? Harry knew what he'd said, with words anyway. His eyes were telling a different story, and he was starting to wonder if all of this wasn't just to get some revenge on Austin. He would still go along with it, wouldn't deny he wanted to kill Austin, but was he just another game piece in Louis’ life? Getting used to move him to another part on the gameboard-- his life, before Harry was cast off to the side and forgotten all over again?

Forgetting about his ankle, Louis stomped hard on the floor in stereotypical diva fashion. “Uh yeah, he would have no reason to think I'm lying. As his only child, I'm his pride and joy, apple of his eye.. yadda yadda.” He flicked his hand then turned to face the window. Neither dared draw the blinds. “Plus, I'm the greatest actor  _ever_ , don't ya know? One teary eyed boy crying about the big bad Harry hurting me and Austin would be enraged enough to send out the hounds to find me,”

Jutting out hip, he clicked the trigger of the lighter then drew his cigarette through the flame and inhaled. He was running low on smokes. They needed an errand boy to grab them supplies.

“Darling, I don't actually blame you for wanting to kill my dad. The text I got and what I remember of him growing up..” Louis shook his head. His dad robbed him of his memories with Harry, but made him painfully aware that Austin’s relationship with his wife was strained. “Did you know he fathered two kids before me? I met them at the family reunion last year in Vegas. Mom refused to go because she hates my dad’s side.”

Harry nodded, having already known all of this and more. When him and Des would go on runs for the club, sleeping with other women wasn't considered cheating, and what happened on the road was never talked about with their old lady. Jay had found out, of course, when one of his fun bags showed up a few years later with a three year old claiming Austin was the father, and they'd all seen the resemblance between the little girl and the newborn Jay had been cradling in her arms. There was no doubt he had another kid, and possibly a hundred more out there who would never know their true father.

“I can get you bloodied up, then send your father a video of you tied to a chair or something, and you'll need to use your acting skills. I don't doubt he'll demand a cell phone call, and that's when I'll give him my demands and yadda yadda.” Waving a hand, Harry pulled out his own cigarettes that had been abandoned in his pants on the floor. Most were stained with blood, the color browning as it continued to age, but he'd managed to find a few clean ones tucked in the back of the pack.

Lighting the fag, and taking a deep drag to further damage his faltering lungs, Harry winced as his the smoke clawed at his throat. Swallowing to try and ease the burning, he gave a soft cough and  _finally_ looked up at Louis. “What do you get out of all of this? Your father is a prick, sure, but what is waiting for you on the other side of that damned bloody rainbow?”

Louis HATED his father for cheating on his mother multiple times. He probably did have siblings back in the UK and wouldn’t doubt the man continued his dirty ways in the US. Sitting back, he crossed his legs, injured one laying across the other as he massaged the sore ankle. Sucking on his own cigarette, he blew out the smoke then leaned back, sinking low into the couch. “No stealing my yadda yadda, Curls.”

Flicking ash off the end of the cigarette into a glass container on the table next to him, he licked over his lips then gave a shrug, “I’m all down with you making me look bloody and shit. But how are you going to do that with your medical bag? Unless you mean actually slicing me with the shit you have in there, then I”m going to have to say no, even if they’re shallow cuts, blood makes me want to puke.” He eyed Harry through his smoke then brought hand up to rub at his eyes, the smoke starting to get into them. “By the way, we need an errand boy to get us crap. I’m almost out of smokes.”

“Are you really asking me what the hell I’m getting out of this?” Louis narrowed eyes at Harry then pointed at him, “Hello! My memories are coming back.. I get to experience them again. Remember you again,” Shit.. Louis should have waited to see if Harry would reciprocate or not. What if Harry had moved on? WHat if he had someone already? Shit!!! “I mean.. I.. if you want to?”

Slowly rolling his head to look at Louis, Harry rolled his eyes and laughed as his palm came to rub between his eyebrows, a headache prodding there the longer he thought about everything. “Would I be here if I didn't want you? Would I have spent the last eight years of my fucking life pining after you like some love sick idiot if I didn't  _want_ you?” Sitting up, Harry ashed on the floor, tearing eyes away from Louis to look at a loose thread on the couch. “I've wanted you to remember me since I seen you on that stupid campus, but I couldn't bring myself to help those memories resurface. You got an out, a clean getaway, something all of us have wanted at least once on our lives.”

Pulling out the phone, Harry didn't wait for Louis to respond before he was dialing Liam’s number, a finger held up when the phone began to ring. “I need you to bring me some stuff. I'll text you a list, but be careful and make sure nobody follows you or I'll kill you right along with them,” Harry growled into the phone. He heard shuffling on the other line, and a very familiar female voice ask, “is that Harry?” But once again, he didn't wait for a response. Hanging up, he opened Liam’s now saved contact.

_I need a couple pack of cigarettes, some real goddamn food that will make me fat, liquid latex, cotton and toilet paper without any markings. You'll probably need Gem’s help for this, but I'll also need some good theater makeup and foundation that will match Louis’ skin tone. I'll send a couple pictures to help. Oh, and some fake blood._

Then, just to make sure Liam understood how much of a necessity food was, Harry sent an additional text.

_F.A.T.T.E.N.I.N.G F.O.O.D. Preferably some that are easy to cook,, like frozen pizzas and shit like that. I’m also craving some chicken nuggets, so stop by Mcdonalds for me and get like fifty? Oh, and the smokes we need are Marlboro red shorts, and you know what kind I like. K, thanks Li. Text me when you’re on your way, then I’ll give you the address._

“I won’t be cutting you open. I’ll be creating realistic wounds with a few things I’m having Liam pick up. I’ve done it before for Halloween. It doesn’t hurt, and the blood I’ll be using is fake,” doubting the cigarette in the glass container Louis had, Harry smushed the butt and left it there, the cherry still smoldering as grey tendrils or smoke rose. “Liam is bringing up some things. Need anything? Or just smokes?”

Harry’s confession made something stir in Louis’ stomach as he suddenly felt shy. Wait, shy? When did he ever feel shy?! Slowly smoking his cigarette, he stayed quiet until the last drag, crushing it out beside Harry’s as he blew out the smoke and stared at the orange cherry of Harry’s cig as it smoldered in the makeshift ashtray. “You don’t know great that makes me feel, Harry. I can’t wait for more memories to come flooding in,”

When Harry busied himself with his phone call, Louis pulled out his personal one to scroll through it then his burner, then back to the original, noting yet another text from his father. The man was impatient. Sighing hard, he darted eyes to Harry, debating asking him for advice then decided to just ignore the second message like the first. They’d get back to him later, their plan had to have a rolling start first.

“Um.. apple juice? Since the one in the fridge was sour? Candy, preferably. . pasta, coffee creamer.” Louis tapped his fingers together then let them drop into his lap. Getting up from the couch, he leaned down to scoop up his bag and rummage through it. “Have you seen Ed lately? I don’t remember when I last saw him..? The bonfire?” Why was thinking about Ed getting foggy too? Hell, he didn’t remember what the hell happened to put them in this situation except his dad was pissed off at him. “How long do you suppose we’ll have to stay here?”

Updating the list with the things Louis had asked for, and a few items Harry had remembered like clothes and such, he lit another one of his last cigarettes and watched Louis closely, a buried fear that he would turn around and run away blossoming in Harry's chest, even if the boy had shown no signs that he wanted to leave. “He was at your dads house. Austin wanted me to help erase his memory or some bullshit because he was weak,” Harry said, waving it off. It wasn't important now. Ed was most likely dead.

Harry still hadn't told Louis about the medication he has hidden upstairs, and didn't plan on doing so. What if Louis got overwhelmed, or decided Harry wasn't worth remembering and gave himself a dose of it? It was an irrational thought, but still one that had worry clawing at his already bloodied stomach. Rolling his shirt up to reveal the bruises, Harry poked at one of the ribs beneath the skin and hissed, but continued this until he was certain they weren't broken. One felt chipped, as far as he could tell, but none of the others were damaged any further than some light bruising.

“And I dunno,” he started with a half hearted shrug, “For a few days, or at least until we've fixed you up and get our plan straight. The longer we sit, though, the easier it will be to find. So I'd say maybe another day or two?” He was questioning himself rather than asking Louis or stating something. He didn't fucking know how long they'd be here. What he did know, however, was there was a slight itch beneath his skin, urging him to move, to hide and never let himself resurface. But he was done with running and hiding. He wanted to stay and fight.

Itching to go outside, Louis balled up fists then let them dangle by his side. He wanted to light another cigarette, but also wanted to save them just in case Liam took his sweet time getting back to them and from what Louis saw, Harry’s cigarettes were dwindling too and it wouldn’t be fair to bum off him.

“So, where’s our next location then after this? Or haven’t you thought this through yet?” Our? What if he doesn’t want you near him after this? Maybe he’ll go back to his dorm and forget you exist. That was the part of Louis’ brain that Austin had a good time twisting to his own sick pleasure. It was denying the new thoughts, having laid dormant for so long. “I mean, if you still want me to be by your side…”

A sound outside made Louis go still. He glanced at Harry then at the door then back at Harry. He was unarmed, except for the knife and he wasn’t completely sure where that’d ended up. Without even thinking, he reached over and grabbed Harry’s hand to squeeze it tight, pretty much pulling the taller man to walk with him over to a window to peer out discreetly to see what had made that noise, or who.

“Who all knows about this place, Harry?” Louis whispered, even though he was pretty sure that the intruder couldn’t hear them.

The noise had Harry's ears perking, straining to see if he could hear another one. Nobody knew about this place, only him and Ron. Liam hasn't text him back yet, so even he didn't know where they were. Pulling back the blinds, his hand automatically tightening around Louis’, green eyes scoured the seemingly deserted land until it fell on a silhouette in the trees. “Stay here.” Harry whispered, squeezing Louis’ hand before he dropped it.

Opening the closet closest to the front door, Harry pulled open the false back and grabbed a gun hidden there. He'd remembered where everything was earlier, just hadn't bothered to look around to make sure he was right. Holding a finger up at Louis to warn him, once again, to stay, Harry opened the door and slipped out as quickly as he could before closing it behind him.

Gun held up with the a bullet in the chamber, ready to be shot if needed, Harry crept closer to where he'd seen the figure, movements slow due to his leg. His heartbeat was echoing in his ears, loud and fast, drowning out everything else except for the sudden snap of a twig he'd heard. Jerking in that direction, the breath that had been lodged in Harry's throat was exhaled, and the gun was lowered.

Two small deer came running out of the trees, their mum following behind them. Her ears perked as she watched Harry carefully, dull teeth working over a piece of grass. Her eyes were big and brown, exactly like Liam’s and suddenly bringing truth to the saying of having big, soft, innocent doe eyes. This was the first time he'd seen a deer so up close, could practically hear her hummingbird heart thrumming in her chest. Lifting a hand, eyes bright and staying focused on the three animals, Harry curled two fingers and gestured for Louis to come out.

“Hi, mama,” Harry said in a low voice, careful not to spoke her. The two babies kept circling around her, seemingly anxious to keep moving, too afraid to stay in one spot in case of the hunters who wouldn't be out and about for a few more months.

Following Harry out, he gave a soft gasp when he saw the animals. Squealing slightly, he ripped some grass from the area behind them and slowly extended a hand to let the deer and babies feed from it. Darting eyes at Harry then at the deer, he brought second hand up slowly to rub at the space above the deers’ eyes, murmuring at how soft it was and how cute the babies were. When the deer had their fill and realized the two weren’t going to harm them, they flounced away into the woods to scavenge some more or maybe to find their other forest friends, a bunny perhaps?

The urge to follow them got strong so Louis pushed off from the front lawn to head into the woods. The tree cover made the area darker, kind of spookier, but he was still able to see, not like at night when it’d be pitch black and he’d trip over everything imaginable. Looking over his shoulder at Harry, he turned to keep going into the woods, aware of the various noise emitting from it. Chirps of birds as they flew over his head, chasing each other through the maze of trees, squirrels waiting until Louis got close to scold hm in chatter and run up the tree. He stopped when a couple bunnies hopped right up to him, little noses working overtime as they stared up at him.

“Oh my god, bunnies!” Louis half squealed/half whispered. He wanted to lean down and pluck the soft bunny into his arms, but with his luck they’d bite him and have rabies. Why did sweet looking animals have to be so vicious? Wandering farther in, his eyes got wide when he saw more deer. “Deer! I feel like I’m in a freaking Disney movie now. Where’s the skunk? And.. whoever else was Bambi’s friend..”

The need to follow Louis had Harry's legs moving before he'd even registered what he was doing. Going into the woods when people wanted to murder you was the exact place you wanted to go to get caught and killed, yet he still found himself following closely behind the curious, bright eyed idiot. His own eyes were glancing around in the trees, paranoia ringing in his brain and telling him someone was out here when he knew they were alone, aside from the numerous creatures that lived in the woods.

Following Louis wasn't something new for him, a suppressed instinct he had, suddenly being accompanied by more, with memories from when they were younger and Louis had tried to pick up a squirrel that had rabies. Grabbing his arm, Harry jerked Louis back from the bunnies and shook his head. “I wouldn't,” he hissed, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the shadows in the trees to look down at Louis. “They're not your friends, Louis. Animals are mean. They probably brought us out here to gang bang us and sacrifice us to a fucking grizzly bear. Let's go back to the cabin before I have to saw off my foot that's infected with hundreds of little bites.”

Harry was shoeless, pantless, and had fresh blood seeping into the gauze wrapped around his leg. That was bound to attract some unwanted animals, and he wasn't in the mood or physically capable to run away from some psychotic animals Louis decided to befriend. He already had a scar next to his pinkie toe from a blood hungry rat the boy had brought home one day. “Come on, Liam will be calling soon,” Harry nudged one of the rabbits away with his foot, toe getting lost in the soft fur and he was almost drawn into it by the soft eyes, but then it's nose twitch and it lunged at him. “Fuck it, Louis! I'm leaving.”  _Did he squeal a little?_

“Yes because animals know what gang bang means, Harold.” Louis rolled his eyes then made a noise when Harry nudge the bunny with his foot. But the bunny’s reaction made Louis scream, foot going back to punt the rabbit a few feet away where it scrambled to roll onto its feet and hop away, the other bunnies going after it. Growling slightly, he pointed at a bunny who had stayed behind, maybe to try to defend it’s fiend’s honor, but Louis stomped at it, spooking it enough to make it escape, too. “Evil forest animals!!!

Now realizing the state of Harry, he smothered a laugh. “You.. have no pants on. Who goes outside without pants on?” Shaking head, he reached up to pull at one of Harry’s curls, hard enough that it sprang back against his face. Smacking Harry hard on the arm, he gave him a childish grin, “Tag! You’re it!” Then scurried off in the direction of the house, though Louis had terrible direction and was heading away from the house, toward the one and only neighbor the house they were taking refuge in had.

Stopping short when he came across a wooden fence, he frowned and looked to his left then his right, nothing but open spaces. Warm sun hitting the bright green grass with a slight wind fluttering his hair, that he registered needed a cut at the moment. “Harry? Harry?! I.. don’t have my cell so I can’t call you.. The hell did you go?”

Harry couldn't run, tried warning Louis of that but he was there one second, gone the next, leaving Harry alone in the woods without any way to go and find him. Well, one that didn't involve him getting hurt in the end. Groaning, he pressed a hand against his leg and began to limp after Louis, soon finding that if he used the trees as support he could hop on one foot and actually get from one place to another without being in excruciating pain, or wasting twelve fucking minutes.

“Louis,” He yelled, trying not to be too loud. They had a neighbor around here somewhere, and they were naturally snoopy people. If they found out someone was in the cabin, they'd insist on coming over and having coffee and talking when they're really just snooping. Harry's had to deal with them before, though he has to admit the woman made a delicious apple pie. “Come on, you idiot. We can't be out here much longer.”

He had somehow lucked into finding a dirt path that only had a few rocks here and there, twigs pushed off to the side, so his feet were being spared hundreds of little cuts. Stopping at a wooden fence, panic setting in, Harry spun in a complete circle, ready to call for Louis until he seen the boy standing maybe thirty feet away from him. “Louis,” he hissed, freezing when he heard the door opening, followed by someone stepping out onto the wooden porch.  _Fuck._

Hearing the door open, Louis ducked behind a wide brush. Seeing Harry, he put a finger to his lips in a SHH manner then crab walked over to him. “Who is that? Are we going to get killed? I’m too young and pretty to die!” He hissed at Harry. Stilling, he heard the feet come off the wooden step and tromp towards them. Blue eyes went wide and he looked at Harry then in the direction of the feet, “Go, go, go!”

With a rush of adrenaline, Louis popped up and grabbed Harry around the waist, tugging the injured man halfway over his shoulder as he took off running for where he hoped the cabin was. If he was wrong again, he’d at least be away from the neighbor. But thankfully luck was on their side and Louis almost made it to the steps of the cabin before having to slow down and let Harry stand on his own dirty, naked feet as he leaned over to gulp in huge swallows of oxygen.

“We’re in a horror movie aren’t we? Somewhere we took a wrong turn at Albuquerque or one of us is dreaming..” Louis rambled off. He slid a hand into Harry’s and went for the front door of the cabin, which was still half open from both of their unexpected departures. Glancing at the forest, he swear he saw the deer again that had started all this. It was probably laughing at them, along with his bunny and skunk pals. Fuck you, Bambi!

“Next location,” Harry gasped through heaving lungs, body bent forward so he could rest his hands on his knees as he greedily gulped in air. Louis could think what he wanted, but Harry had ran, too, not putting any of his weight on Louis. His feet were cut up and raw now, dirt clinging inside the wounds and surrounding his toes. He needed a bath, and bad, but had to keep his stitches dry. “Is Fremont,”

He wanted to leave San Francisco, but didn't want to go too far. Slowly turning around, Harry lowered himself onto the step with a low, drawn out groan. His ribs were aching, and he was pretty sure he'd ripped open his stitches in their little hershey track meet. Pressing a hand against his stomach, Harry rubbed the growing ball of worry there and waved towards the door when he heard his phone ringing. “Will you go grab that? It's probably Liam.”

Frowning at Harry, he wished he could pick up the man and drag him to the bathtub, but Louis wasn’t that strong. Hearing the phone ring, he gave a nod and rushed into the house in the direction of the noise. Finally locating it where they’d been sitting, he slid a finger across the screen, “Hi Liam. I’ll get Harry, hold on.” Running outside, he fell onto the steps beside him and held out the phone, when his hands were free, he rubbed them down to Harry’s belly to rub at the skin there, like he’d seen Harry doing.

Freemont? How far away was that? Louis had only been out of San Francisco to go to Vegas, he hadn’t been the one to drive, but paid attention to his surroundings and such. That wouldn’t be his only trip to Vegas. “Dad’s got people in Vegas, I bet. I went there alot with him after that family reunion..” He murmured. Wishing he’d grabbed his own phone, Louis stood up and headed into the house to the bathroom to start a bath for Harry, it was the least he could do.

Watching Louis leave, Harry sighed and scrubbed at his neck. “It's a fucking mess up here, Li. I need… Fuck, can you get me medical super glue? I know you're already done shopping but I need it.” Pausing to listen to Liam’s response, Harry rolled his eyes. “I'll show you why when you get here…” Giving him the address in a hushed voice, he hung up the phone and threw it behind him, through the open door. It landed next to the couch, phone sliding across the carpet before it slid and hit into the plastic leg.

Pulling himself up using the door, Harry kept his bad leg as straight as possible and hopped into the house, where he collapsed back on the couch and removed the gauze. He had, in fact, ripped open the stitches and blood was pouring out of the wound, the bright red a stark contrast against his pale thighs. Damn, he really needed to get out in the fucking sun. “Louis,” Harry called out, “Liam is on his way. He found everything.”

While in the bathroom, Louis was rummaging around. He wanted some bugspray or suntan lotion, just in case. Eyeing the tub to make sure it wouldn't overflow, Louis plopped himself on the edge of the counter, feet dangling. When he got bored with sitting, he stooped down to peer under the sink. Nothing but extra toilet paper, soap refill and a plunger. The house had to have something exciting in it.

Twisting the knob to turn the water off, Louis tested the temperature with a finger then went out to fetch Harry. “Ok, cool.” Reaching down, he extended a hand to him, ignoring the gaping and oozing wound. It would suck if that got infected because Louis had to take a tryst through the woods. “I should see if I can find some Epsom salts, that would help clean that out.”

“When are we leaving for Fremont?” Louis was trying to keep the conversation going as he lead Harry to the bathroom. “Need any help getting undressed or anything?”

Harry laughed and shook his head, curls weighed down by dust bobbing around and disturbing the somewhat manageable hairstyle he'd done. “No, I think I can manage,” he said, teeth clasped around his bottom lip as he began his slow crawl up the stairs. “I mean,” he began, glancing over his shoulder, “I'm not one to deny a show. You can follow me if you'd like,” Harry waggled his eyebrows, a boyish laugh bubbling out of his mouth, causing his dimples to pop out and eyes to crinkle.

Deciding to give Louis a show, he paused halfway up the stairs and slowly took off his shirt, legs wobbling as he forced himself to stay steady and not fall ass backwards. He threw a smirk over his shoulder as the shirt went flying down the stairs, the muscles in his back dancing with each movement, each stretch, and making the large tattoo there come to life. Hands hovering over his boxers, Harry shoved his thumbs past the elastic band before he suddenly retracted them and let the band snap back against his hip bones. “Sorry, but this shops closed. If you wanna see anymore, you'll have to wait until the owner isn't some limp legged asshole.”  _Was he flirting, or was that wink really just his eyes automatic response to dust getting in it?_

Slowly following behind the gimp to make sure his leg didn't betray him and cause him to fall, Louis shook his head at the shirt going flying nowhere near him. It went over his head to land on the banister, then slowly slid off onto the floor. “Well, if you put it that way.” Louis tried to make his voice deep and breathy, but his naturally high voice refused to let him.

Finding himself holding his breath when Harry made to pull his boxers off, he made a noise of disapproval when it turned out to be only a tease. Jerk! When they reached the landing, Louis purposely brought hand out to grab Harry’s tiny bum and give it a squeeze before sliding past him to go to the linen closet for a towel for Harry. “Do you have anything to change into when you're done?”

Shrugging, Harry gestured to the room behind him where he'd gotten Louis’ clothes. “Should be some in there.” He said, eyes floating to the closed door down the hallway. He'd hidden his jacket in a place no sane person would look, so he wasn't worried about Louis finding the vial of drugs if he decided to go snooping through the rooms.

Limping into the bathroom once Louis said he was going to go find him clothes, Harry set the towel he'd given him on the counter and left the door wide open. He wasn't self conscious, and Louis has definitely seen all of Harry's body even if he couldn't remember it. Slowly sliding his boxers down, he cringed when they suddenly slipped from his grip and smacked the back of his thighs. “Fucking stupid things,” he growled. Kicking them off once he'd gotten them down around his ankles, Harry stepped into the bathtub and slowly sank down, knees still drawn up so water didn't splash up into his wound.

Throwing his injured leg over the side of the tub, and making dirty water fall in small droplets off his toes, Harry grabbed the wash cloth and got it wet. The water was warm as it cradled his aching spine and melted the balls and knots that have taken root in his back. Sighing, he let the cloth fall onto his stomach and just decided to enjoy the warmth for a minute before he tried to scrub his body clean. Bubbles covered his body, or at least the parts under water. His legs were awkwardly long, so his non injured leg was slightly Bent at the knee, making the pale skin rise just above the surface of the water with water chasing away the few bubbles that had stuck.

Retrieving a shirt and pants from where Harry had pointed, he set the clothes on the counter. “Ok well, Im going to go.. watch television since I think you got everything handled here.” Louis hooked a thumb over his shoulder. He kind of wanted Harry to tell him to stay and kind of not, his own body refusing to move on its own accord.

Counting to ten, Louis was about to walk out when he heard Harry say the words he was waiting for, “You can stay. I'd like the company,” Cue the squealing like a teenage girl, silently of course.

“Great!” Pulling the toilet lid closed, he sat on it then lit a cigarette and pushed the window open. “Er.. H,” He set the smoke between his lips, grabbing a new washcloth to douse in the warm and soapy bath water and lay over Harry’s wound.

The words left his mouth before he could really register what he was saying, but he wouldn't take it back. He actually would enjoy the company, and was kind of relieved when he seen Louis plop down on the toilet seat. “Yes?” he hummed, eyes falling closed. His fingers were lazily dragging through the water next to his body, creating soft ripples that was both soothing and created an odd sound that, for some reason, pleased Harry.

It would be so easy to forget about life when lying in a warm bath. Outside of the water, the porcelain tub, nothing seemed important or terrifying. It was just this great big world, where you would spend your entire life fighting to live before you died. The obstacles that were thrown at you didn't seem so big anymore, and the horrifying things waiting for Louis and Harry weren't important anymore. They could all wait one more day if it meant Harry got the next twenty four hours to just look at Louis, to watch the boy without cotton curtains blocking his view or hundreds of feet hindering his view.

Gently Louis rubbed the washcloth over the wound then laid it out flat on it. Taking smoke out to tap into the sink, he felt himself sliding off the lid and planted feet to keep himself still. With Harry taking up space in the tub, the man wouldn't be able to lean back and wet his hair so Louis grabbed an empty container from a drawer to fill with water and poured it over Harry’s curls making them lay straight and plastered against his face. “You look like baby Tarzan, Haz.”

He was enjoying this way too much. When he figured his hair was wet enough, Louis squirted some shampoo into his hands and reached over to start washing his chocolate locks, massaging the man's scalp.

Harry hasn't had someone wash his hair for years, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it but he didn't stop it. Leaning forward a bit to grant Louis access to the back of his head, chin digging into his chest, Harry hummed and tried focusing on the fingers scratching his scalp. It wasn't entirely displeasing, was even a little relaxing, but he couldn't get used to such a luxury. He's been alone for years, has gotten used to it, and Louis could decide to up and leave again one day, leaving him once again broken and so fucking needy.

Once the shampoo was rinsed out and the conditioner was in to set for a little, Harry leaned back, laughing softly when his hair made an odd squishy noise when it pressed against the back of the wall. “So, Tomlinson,” Harry said, deciding it best to stick with formal names even though countless nicknames were dancing on his tongue, “before you started college, what has your life been like? Do you remember anything from. London?”

Yawning slightly, Louis wiped the bubbles off his arms and recapped the shampoo and conditioner. Leaning back, he got up to sit on the toilet seat again then stretched arms high above his head and lit another cigarette. The silence besides their breathing was stifling. He wished he’d brought a radio up or something, just for background noise. Reaching over to push the window open, he peered out over the rooftop. Some night he wanted to climb out there and just sit to watch the stars, something he loved doing back home in England.

Scratching at the side of his nose, he ashed the smoke into the sink then brought shoulders up in a shrug. “Uhhhhh.. I remember, lots of men at my house at all hours of the night. My tree house where my cousin and I usually slept in the summer and he fell out and broke his arm, I got blamed for it.” Add eye roll here. Louis blew out more smoke, coughing slightly as he took another drag, “Gran’s house. It was huge with a wrap around porch, she had two outdoor dogs, I Forget their names, and a whole ton of cats inside. I think my cousins and I said she’d die as the crazy cat lady, and they’d find her being eaten by said cats.” Louis chuckled. It sounded morbid as hell, and hadn’t happened, but it could have!

Harry listened, nodding along as he bit down on his tongue to keep from interrupting or telling Louis all of those memories weren't real. Jay’s mother had died when they were young kids, Austin’s mom lived in America, and the cousins Louis remembered didn't actually exist. The tree house was a real memory, something nobody could take away from him, but it had been Gemma he'd pushed out of the tree. She'd told him Harry didn't want to be his friend anymore or something, Louis got mad, pushed Gemma out of the treehouse him and Harry had built, then he took off running to find the curly haired giant to make sure he wasn't actually leaving.

“My mum, she had a house with a wrap around porch,” Harry said, sinking back in the tub, the continuous drip of water out of the spout the only thing keeping him from slipping into the past. “One summer, me and my sister ( _and you_ ) got bored, and they wouldn't let us go swimming. So, on the side of the porch they didn't use a lot, we built this little square area using the railings and some wooden pallets my dad had. Then we stapled some tarps to it and built a pool. Man, my mum got so mad but ended up joining us in the end.” laughing, Harry drug a wet hand down his face and turned to face Louis, a sigh falling from his lips.

He had so many things to tell him, so many things he wanted him to remember, but now wasn't the time. He didn't want him to get overwhelmed, or feel like Harry didn't like him as he was. “I was always in trouble as a kid. Me and my little shadow, as my mum used to call him.”  _The shadow was you. Do you remember, Louis? Remember all the things we used to do?_

Finishing off the smoke, he flicked it out the window. Running a hand through his fringe, he got up, butt starting to get numb from sitting on the toilet seat. “But, I need to go visit my grandma in England again. She recently learned how to e-mail and, even though she doesn’t have the greatest typing skills, it still works. Maybe she’s used to being on a typewriter, I remember playing with that as a kid, pretend to be dictating important letters. Or I think I just typed whatever was said on the telly, like those court stenographers. . think I wanted to be one once, but then I learned drawing from an uncle and my cousin.” Louis grinned at the memory.

The drawing book, trying to copy the pictures from Garfield comics or even comics from the newspaper, it was mostly tracing, but with hard work, Louis could duplicate the drawing almost as good as the artist. “I think after college, I want to either open my own store, do graphic design for video games, or illustrate for childrens’ books. I could do all three, the sky’s the limit and all, to copy what everyone told us as kids.”

A low ringing in the background made Louis turn head. It was his actual phone ringing. His heart raced as he excused himself from the bathroom to rush downstairs toward his phone. Please be Ed, Please be Ed, please Be Ed! His mind repeated over and over as he slid thumb over the screen, then chose not to at the last minute, seeing the number was unlisted. Louis never answered those, they were mostly telemarketers.

Everything was gone, replaced with false memories of people who didn't even exist. Louis had only ever touched a typewriter in england when they snuck into the librarians office. The woman had yet to accept the internet, so she still used one to send out letters and such. Louis had been curious, talked Harry into sneaking in, and he typed the curly haired male a love/hate letter. It has since been lost, but it leaned heavily on how annoying Harry was because he snores at night. 

And he didn't learn how to draw from those people. Harry had bought him his first art set for Christmas when Louis was only six. The boy had drawn so many colorful and ridiculous pictures for Harry, that by Christmas the next year the older mans walls had been covered in his artwork. He'd learned how to draw by himself, something Harry had always admired. He was independent, and always reminded everyone that he didn't need anyone to take care of him… Expect for Harry, on occasion.

When the phone rang and Louis left, Harry quickly scrubbed over his body then pulled the plug out with his toe and hefted himself up, the slippery bathtub bottom making him slide around and twist his bad leg before he finally threw it outside the tub and found footing on the damp rug. Drying himself, Harry got dressed, not at all minding that he was going commando, and did one of those twisty hair things with the towel that Gemma had taught him. It made him look like he had a swirl of vanilla ice cream on his head, and pulled his face tight so his eyebrows were drawn up, but it was better than having a wet shirt.

Slowly going down the steps, and nearly slipping on the last, Harry all but ran to the couch to sit down so he didn't end up falling. Rather than removing his pants like he'd done last night, because he was positive Louis didn't want to get scarred by his junk hanging loose, Harry rolled up the loose pant leg and let it bunch at the top of his thigh. “Who called?” He asked, keeping himself distracted. The wound was red and very angry looking, the once stitched hole now gaping open and revealing the fatty layer before it dove deeper into the meaty part.

“Wouldn't look,” he warned, remembering how queasy Louis was now. Grabbing tweezers from the bag, Harry carefully removed the remaining thread from his once beautiful masterpiece, blood pooling in each tiny hole made from the needle.

When the number just called again, Louis furrowed brows together. Did his dad have a burner phone and was trying to get in touch with him? Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a pen and wrote the number down on his skin to call later then once again declined the call. Completely shutting down his phone, he put it in his pocket along with his pen and padded down the stairs to the living room, just in time to see Harry using a tweezers on his leg. Making a noise, Louis rushed past the living room into the kitchen where their dirty breakfast dishes still laid.

“We’re pigs.” Louis announced as he set the dishes in the sink to soak, eying the dishwasher located below it and to the right. Thank god. Dishes was the worst chore in the world. After he finished, he wiped off the table with a wash cloth then threw it into the sink and sat down, tapping fingers on the nice clean surface. Well, now he was bored. Ten minutes sitting down then he stood up again and walked out of the kitchen, not paying attention Harry as he walked down the hallway to where he’d seen an office set up. Entering, he sat down on the chair and spun around a few times then faced the computer. He had Internet on his phone, but sometimes it was easier to sit on an actual machine to do things.

A hand hesitated before reaching out to push the mouse to make the screen come alive. When it did, it was the default wallpaper and a password box popped up. Fuck. He couldn’t ask Harry for it, Harry would probably narrow those green eyes of his and ask why he wanted to get on the computer. Maybe the guy had it written down somewhere? But then Harry would also hear him rummaging through the drawers, being nosey. Slumping against the chair, he picked up a pen and tapped it on the edge of the desk then reached over to grab a sheet of printer paper and just aimlessly started to doodle on it, lost in the lines and shading he was doing on the once clean piece of paper.

When Louis just ignored him and completely bypassed him, Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.  _Whatever_. When he was finished removing the thread, and flushed the wound with alcohol, he covered it with gauze temporarily and wrapped a strip of tape around his leg to hold the gauze in place. Fingers tapping on his thigh once he was done and leaning back against the couch, Harry blew out a deep breath and suddenly jumped up when he heard tires crunching against the rocks outside. It definitely wasn't an animal now.

Somehow forgetting that he had, in fact, been expecting Liam, Harry's eyebrows rose in shock when he seen the puppy eyed male step out of a silver mini van that had dark, tinted windows. Then, when everything came rushing back, Harry was throwing open the door and running down the few steps to throw arms around Liam and pull him into a hug, face burying in the space between the shorter man's neck and Harry's arm. “I never thought I'd see you again, or proper food for that matter.”

Grinning like an impish fool, Harry pulled back and gestured down towards his leg, that was now bleeding much worse and had the crimson liquid running down his pale legs. “Got shot,” he said, in explanation to their earlier conversation. “Killed a few men, but they were bastards and tried to kill me.”

Shaking head, that was the last thing he’d expect to hear from Harry. Hugging the taller man back, he held up the other arm, ladden with bags of food and the supplies he wanted. “Well, you can properly clean yourself up now, don’t need that to get infected then you’d have to amputate your leg then the infection might spread to the other and same thing then you’d end up like Lieutenant Dan in  _Forrest Gump_ , except without the cool war story about how you lost your legs.”

Following Harry into the house, he welcomed the air conditioning, sweat running down his face from just being outside those few minutes. The humidity in California sucked. Walking to where the kitchen was, he set the bags on the table, separating the groceries from the first aid and miscellaneous stuff that Harry and Louis had requested, plus other things Liam figured they might need. “So where’s the tiny guy? I figured he’d stick to you like glue.”

Just as Liam asked that, half of Louis’s face appeared at the kitchen door, one eye peering in the other as he almost shly slithered into the room. The picture he’d drawn in the office was in one hand, the other carrying a newly lit cigarette, the grey smoke trailing after him. “Hi Liam.” Louis’s small voice said as he settled onto one of the bar stools and set his picture down then grabbed an empty coffee cup to ash in.

Harry watched as Liam quickly swiped the coffee cup and replaced it with a glass ashtray, small ridges in the middle of it to hold your smoke when you needed to set it down. Rolling eyes, Harry carefully sat down on one of the stools and kept his bad leg straight as he grabbed the super glue Liam had bought and squirted a small amount on the hole before he squished it together and held it to help seal it. Later he'd put on some liquid bandage to help keep it closed longer, and so he'd actually be able to get it wet.

“Whose minivan is that?” Harry asked when nobody else decided to start conversation. Digging through the things Liam had brought, Harry immediately scooped up a package of peanut butter m&m’s and ripped them open. Popping a few of the colorful balls in his mouth, he chomped down, eyes nearly rolling back in his skull when the hard shell broke and chocolate and peanut butter coated his tongue.  _Heaven._ “And are you  _sure_  nobody followed you?”  _Paranoid asshole._

Why did he insist on doing this in front of Louis?! Glaring at Harry, he grabbed a napkin and threw it over his head to show displeasure in seeing the man’s wound oozing once again, even after he’d told the taller one he’d throw up if it happened. HE was close, very close to vomiting. Hopping off his stool to wander over to the table, he clasped hands behind his back to stare out through a space in the curtains. A bunny chose that moment to hop close to the house, nose going ninety miles a minute. He wasn’t going to turn around until the wound was covered. No matter what.

Liam looked at Louis then at Harry, pushing the ash tray more to the center of the table and setting the cup in the sink to rinse out. “Gemma’s.And no, I wasn’t followed. It was clear road from the store to here, even to the store I had maybe an old lady in a boat of a car behind me, but I was in too much of a hurry to pay attention to her, she was creeping along like a turtle with her right blinker going the whole time.”

Sighing Louis went over to the coffee butler. His cup now had ashes in it, so he grabbed a new one, a green one, pouring some of the now cold-ish coffee in it and added sugar and cream for taste. Stirring it with a spoon, he turned to watch the two guys, not wanting to interrupt their conversation, as he really had nothing to say, he just wanted to listen.

Silence rang in Harry's ears, slowly ticking off the seconds he spent munching on candy rather than finding out what has happened in his absence, if anything. “And Austin? He made an appearance yet?” Harry asked cautiously, eyes darting to Louis before they found the colorful, odd shaped candies pooling in his hand. He understands it's only been a day, not quite twenty four hours yet, but usually the first twelve hours is when a man strikes, no matter what is at stake. And if he hasn't done anything yet, it means Harry had missed something, that Austin either has more leverage or is staying underground and waiting to strike when everyone least expects it, when their guards are slowly let down.

Placing an m&m on the table, a red one, Harry lined it up with Liam’s stomach and flicked it, fingernail throbbing as the hard candy bounced off of it and went flying, hitting Liam in his belly button before it clattered on the table and fell to the floor, making little to no noise. He was stalling, or rather keeping himself busy before he allowed himself to explode with the questions rattling away in his skull: before he allowed the worries to liquidize and pour from between the seam of his lips. Getting these two hyped up over possibly nothing was stupid, and Harry would rather not try to comfort two squealing idiots who are now realizing the danger they're (most likely) in.

Loudly slurping at the coffee, the silence in the room was driving Louis nuts. He winced at the cold liquid then shoved it into the microwave set beside the toaster. Pushing in twenty seconds, he wiped at his mouth then hopped up onto the counter to push the window open a crack and blew his smoke out of it. Louis hadn’t slept very well last night, palming his eyes, he blinked the sting of the smoke away, turning to stare out the window. A figure was standing there, staring at him from just at the edge of the woods. Curious, Louis sat up straighter and leaned to the window to get a better look, just in time for the man to hold up a gun and aim it at them. Louis screamed and went flying off the counter and onto the floor, crawling under the table as he muttered something about his dad being outside with a gun and they were going to get killed now.

Managing to whack his head on the table leg, he curled up beside Harry’s legs, looking around for the cigarette he’d dropped and seeing it smoldering on the hardwood floor, probably burning a hole into the wood. Swiping it up, he took a drag before the smoke could go out, welcoming the cancerous toxins back into his lungs to soothe him.

Right about to tell Harry to cut it out with the candy, Louis had screamed, startling him enough to jar the table so it shoved more into the taller man as he jumped to his feet, drawing the gun he had holstered at his side. Carefully walking to the sliding glass doors, he peered between the blinds, seeing absolutely nothing outside the house besides a couple butterflies fluttering around the bird bath and a squirrel that was now sitting upright and staring at the house, having heard the commotion inside.

“There’s nobody out there...the hell is wrong with him?” Liam put the weapon away as he returned to the table to sit back down, ignoring the beep of the microwave signaling Louis’ coffee was ready.

Caught in the middle of the commotion, Harry didn't have time to move before the table was shoved into his leg and pinning it against the edge of his chair. Screaming, he shoved it away, candies shooting off in each and every direction before they rolled to the floor and got stomped by Liam’s giant feet as he stomped over to the doors. “The fuck, Louis?” Harry growled, spreading his legs to loom between them and down at the boy who was cowering beneath him. Smoke rose between the space of Harry's legs, the Grey cloud masking his face before he fanned it away with his hand and continued to glare.

Pain wasn't something he has ever shyed away from, but his damned leg won't heal if it continues to get banged around. Rubbing at the already bruising flesh above his wound, the line perfect but hideous, Harry leaned back against the chair and shifted so he could throw his leg up and let it rest on the table. Sanitary eating places be damned. “And don't ignore me, Li. Has Austin done anything?”  _okay, apparently his patience were gone._

“There was a guy standing out there.. Looked like my dad! We need to get out of here!” Louis screeched. Refusing to get out from under the table and now that Harry moved his legs, he curled himself up into a ball under Harry’s chair, amazed that his small body fit, but wondering if he was stuck now and had to have someone unlodge him from the space. Austin had been as clear as day, he’d even seen Louis and gave that look right before something bad was about to happen. Shuddering lightly, he inhaled deeply on his cigarette then put it out on the floor, not giving a fuck at the moment, he wasn’t moving!

Leaning forward, Liam peered over the table at the guy huddling below it then at the window overlooking the backyard and how bare it was. “Louis, nobody is out there.” He repeated himself. “Nobody but a bird and a squirrel.”

Noting that Harry was getting impatient, Liam decided to not answer him again. Rubbing at his forehead, feeling a migraine starting, he poured himself a glass of water from the fridge and sipped at it.

Louis was watching Liam, particularly the pistol in his pocket. WIshing he still had his, he rolled eyes to look at Harry, his back beginning to cramp up from staying in the position for so long, Louis slid smoothly out from under the chair.

Deciding against blowing up and saying things he'd later regret, Harry pushed his chair back once Louis was moved and stood up on wobbly legs. “Have fun fucking off with each other,” Harry growled, flipping Liam off before he turned and left the room. Going down the hallway, he walked into the vacant office and locked the door behind him. Sitting down in the chair, and rummaging through the drawers for a pen and paper, Harry moved a couple of things aside and set his things down.

He needed a plan, and it had to be a fool proof one so Louis would understand it. Tapping the pen against his chin, which was still capped, he flipped to a blank page in the notebook and wrote, in caps,  _SAVE YOUR ARSE: DUMBARSE EDITION._ It was stupid, but hilarious, and the small giggle he got was enough to distract his mind so everything could start clicking together. And without really thinking about it, he began scribbling on the white page, the black ink smearing every few words when his finger brushed over it.

They would have Liam here as help, which made everything much easier. Once Harry got Louis all bloodied up, and made him look like a survival victim from an episode of Supernatural, they'd have Liam record the scene Harry has yet to setup, and after that it would be smooth sailing. Lip slipping between his teeth, he smoothed out all the bumps in his plan and ten minutes later, he was set. If every went like he was hoping, then nothing  _should_ go wrong.  _If only life were that simple._

Stunned, Liam watched Harry walk off and turned to glare at Louis, even if it wasn’t the smaller one’s fault, well not entirely. Putting hands on his hips, he stole some of the M&Ms from Harry’s bag and bounced one off Louis’ head then popped a few in his own mouth, chewing angrily.

Sniffing the air when the scent of peanut butter was strong, he popped out from under the table and reached out to snatch the whole bag so Liam couldn’t get anymore then took off running for the stairs and into the first door he came across, slamming the door shut loudly and locking it. Panting heavily, he looked around the guest bedroom and plopped down on the bed then thought better of it and got up again to head for the window. It faced the back of the house that he’d been staring at in the kitchen, as he put a knee to the window seat and pressed nose against the glass to look outside. He gasped when Austin was stood just outside the window, standing on the roof top with the same gun pointed at him. He’d never be able to get away without at least one injury. Screaming, Louis threw himself to the floor again and army crawled to the door, scrambling to open it and kept army crawling down the hallway, the carpet rubbing harshly against the skin of his arms, causing the pale surface to turn an angry red.

“Harry! Liam! He’s outside the window.. I fucking swe - “ Louis had been trying to look behind his shoulder to make sure his dad wasn’t coming, while forgetting the layout of the upstairs and how close to the stairs he was as his elbow momentarily hit air and he went rolling face first down the carpet staircase and to the bottom with an oof, the wind momentarily knocked out of him.

Hearing the commotion starting from Louis’ yells, Liam came racing from the kitchen, not seeing Louis’ body sitting at the bottom of the stairs and managing to trip over it and smack his head on the side of the dresser as he fell to the carpet. If this wasn’t so serious right now, Louis would be laughing his ass off.

Harry, the hurt one here, had managed to make it out of the office and into the living room in time to watch as the shit show began. He lunged forward to stop Louis, a scream dying on his lips when Liam came running in and tripping over Louis. It was pure, comical gold until both men set up and Liam had a gash above his eyebrow while Louis’ nose was spewing blood everywhere. “Are you guys seriously that big of fucking idiots?” Harry shouted, “Louis! Your dad isn't here. I was looking at the same fucking backyard you were. Get your shit together before you end up killing yourself.”

Stomping towards the supplies Liam had brought, or trying to anyway but he ended up just more or less dragging his leg behind him, Harry grabbed the bag of makeup, weighed down by a large jug of fake blood, and made his way back into the living room. Liam had hauled himself up to sit on the couch, and Louis had enough common sense to put something against his nose, even if it was Harry's already bloodied jeans. “Now, if you two are done tripping over each other,” a pointed look at Liam, “and hallucinating about your fucking dad,” a softer glare thrown in Louis’ direction, “then I'd like to begin what I originally wanted to do so I can leave this shithole.”  _Never, in his entire life, did he think he would be scolding two grown men._ And he never thought he'd see the day that Louis Tomlinson lost his mind, all jokes and seriousness aside.

Opening mouth to say something, Louis scrunched up face and sneezed so bloody snot sprayed all over. He sniffled and dropped the jeans to reach over and grab a box of Kleenex to hold against his nose. Wiggling it, he gave a moan when it hurt and pushed Liam so the heavier man wasn’t laying on him anymore. Louis carefully got to his feet, a rush of nausea sprang through him, gagging softly against the kleenex as he willed himself not to projectile vomit right then and there. “MY DAD IS QUICK!!! And this time he was right outside the fucking window, Harry! With a big ass gun!” He was surprised he’d escaped unharmed. Nothing else was aching except for the bloody nose.

Raising an eyebrow at the stuff Harry was bringing into the room, Liam momentarily forget he’d been the one responsible for bringing it. His head was cloudy, cobwebs muffling his mind’s eye as it throbbed from the meeting with the end table. The two men had to have a marble table in the house, one with sharp corners? Shaking head proved to only hurt him more as Liam opened his phone camera and held it up to himself, eyes going almost comically wide at the gash above his eye, “Shit. I’ll have fun explaining that to people back at the college. But speaking of college,” Liam put his phone back in his pocket and pushed up with his hands to stand up beside Louis, reaching out to grab the guy as he started to sway slightly. “Austin was just there looking for Louis and you. He’s set up a camp there to catch you if you come back, so you can’t go back there.”

Huffing at the admission that Austin had been snooping around, Harry dumped the bag out onto the table and fanned everything out so he could get a good look at the supplies. Of course Austin had went to the college, but the man was stupid to think they would return. In horror movies, sure. But this wasn't a movie, or even some stupid damn book. This was real life, and Harry wasn't about to hand himself over on a golden platter for Austin just by returning to the college to be a good school boy.  _Cue the eye roll._ “The only way he can make Austin stop completely, or give us what we want, is if we make him believe Louis is in danger,” Harry said, repeating what him and Louis had already talked out, “so, Li, we'll need your help.”

Between the three of them, it wouldn't be hard to set everything up and make things believable. Grabbing the tissue papers and the latex glue, Harry held them up and looked at Louis. “Once your nose stops spewing blood everywhere, we can begin.” Fake wounds weren't really hard to create, if you knew what you were doing and had the right supplies. Thanks to Liam, and his memories from past times he was Harry's errand boy, he'd gotten everything and more. By the end of tonight, Louis would be covered in gashes and cuts, rather they be fake or real ones caused by the boys clumsiness and hallucinations.

(-.-)


End file.
